Tryst with Perdition
by vengeful angel 14
Summary: Dean has finally been rescued from the eternal fires of hell and is dealing with the horrors he suffered at Alistair's hands;atleast as well as Dean Winchester ever deals with things.But Alistair is enraged at the loss of his favorite toy and won't rest until he has Dean in his evil clutches again.How will the boys overcome this powerful adversary? Will Sam have to lose Dean again?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Sam glanced at his brother from his peripheral vision as the road flew beneath the wheels of the impala. Dean's face was etched into his usual frown, his eyes staring unseeingly at the road in front of him. Sam knew that his mind was far away, probably on the same nightmares that had haunted him in the pit and still haunted him now when he surrendered himself to the dark clutches of sleep.

Sam was no fool. Dean tried really hard to cloak his sufferings from Sam. But try as he may, Sam knew. He knew how Dean avoided succumbing to sleep until he was ready to collapse from exhaustion, how he would consume atrocious amounts of alcohol to numb the pain. He heard Dean's choked sobs when he woke up from a terrifying nightmare and saw the tears glistening on his eyelashes.

It was absurd of Dean to think that Sam wouldn't notice as Dean became unraveled. He was his brother after all. No one knew him better than Sam. The profound bond that the brothers shared had neither faded nor dimmed during the time Dean had spent in hell. Sam could still see through the mask that Dean had composed, still see through Dean's pretenses and the hollow words that he spoke to assure Sam of his wellbeing.

Truth was that Sam knew that his brother was slowly but surely falling apart. It was only a matter of time before Dean would crumble beneath the weight of his burdens. Sam could only hope that once this happened, his brother would be strong enough to climb out of the void of darkness again.

* * *

They drove for a few hours more before deciding to call it a night. Pulling into a dingy town in the middle of nowhere they booked a room in an equally run-down motel. His brother decided to break the silence first." Hey Sam, any good hunts around? I'm getting bored." Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's nonchalance but answered nevertheless."There might be one a couple of hours away from here. I'll see what I can find."

Really, Dean's attempts to overwork himself to the point of exhaustion to drown his mental anguish in physical pain were starting to take a toll on his health. His sun-kissed skin was now permanently pale and there were dark purple bruises under his eyes caused by several sleepless nights.

Dean's obvious deterioration of health was worrying Sam. Dean had always projected the image of strength and confidence. He had been Sam's rock when the going got rough, whispering that "everything was going to be alright". And now seeing Dean so broken broke his heart as well. Seeing his elder brother suffering caused his heart to clench in pain and helplessness.

Sam had tried several times to talk to Dean after his return only to be brushed off by his brother."I'm fine, Sammy", he would always say. Of coarse Sam didn't believe it for a second. He knew from experience that Dean did not like to 'talk about his feelings like a girl' and so they would not be having a heart to heart anytime soon. He could only hope and pray that his elder brother would stop being so stubborn and realize that his little brother was there for him, ever ready to lend him a helping hand and pull him out of the dark abyss of his own mind.

* * *

_Dean opened his eyes to a familiar darkness and immediately warning bells started ringing in his sub conscience .A voice emerging from the recesses of his foggy mind warned him of impending danger. He had to flee, he had to get away. From what he was running, he had no clue. All he knew, or rather all he could make out from his muddled thoughts, was the instinct to flee._

_And yet his body refused to obey. His limbs, despite his repeated pleading, would not move. And then, his blood froze as his mind comprehended that his hands and legs were outstretched and bound with thick leather straps to a cold, steel table in a familiar position that sent chills down his spine._

_Panic struck him with surprising vigour as he desperately struggled to escape. A dark chuckle echoed through the blinding darkness as a silhouette appeared besides him. Overwhelmed by fear and horror that seemed to choke him and make it difficult to breathe, he trembled in fright. _

_"Stop! Please stop." He managed to cry out. And suddenly a dam broke in his mind as memories flooded him. Torturous, excruciating memories; and he remembered what was to come next._

_"No! No! NO!"_

Dean jerked awake and almost fell off his bed in his panic-stricken haze. A dream. It was just a dream. He looked around himself only to find himself on his bed and his covers strewn on the floor. His breathless gasps and pants the only sound breaking the silence of the night.

Taking a deep breath he tried to calm his hammering heart. The sight of his little brother lost in the world of dreams with a serene smile on his face considerably assured him of his safety and helped him to break free from his nightmare.

No, not a nightmare. A memory, he corrected himself. Knowing that sleep was a lost cause for the night, he resigned himself to another night drowned in guilt and alcohol. As he poured himself a liberal amount of scotch in a glass, his thoughts turned towards his obvious,(alright he could at least admit it to himself), mental breakdown and its effects on Sam.

He knew that Sam was giving himself an aneurysm because of his constant worry about him. Sam was smart. He obviously saw through his deceit and pretentions and probably suspected that Dean had been lying about his amnesia. But he couldn't bring himself to voice out the truth. The truth that each and every second spent in hell was burned in his memory. Because saying it out loud would mean admitting that hell had not been a nightmare spun by a dark corner of his mind, but had been a reality. It meant admitting his failure and weaknesses. It meant admitting to the only person in the world whose opinion mattered to him that he was a monster. Sometimes, denial really was the best way to go.

He got up from the table after draining almost half the bottle of scotch. Sam would be awake soon and he needn't know that Dean had spent yet another sleepless night. Dean didn't deserve everything his brother was doing to help him heal. He didn't deserve his love and sympathy. He dragged himself back to bed and rolled over, pretending to sleep.

It would not be long before dawn would arrive and the brothers would be back on the road again, ready to take on any challenge that the supernatural world would throw at them. Little did they suspect that things were about to get a lot worse when their horrid past caught up to them once again.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Firstly, my sincere thanks to all those who reviewed my story and also those who are following it. I'm delighted that my first story had gotten such a respose.**

**IMPORTANT: I'd like to clear some things out before beginning the story.**

**There will be no demon blood addicted Sam in my story. I really hated that. But this posed the problem that the apocalypse would never have started if not for Ruby and her demon blood. So, I'm going to assume that Sam managed to find some way to kill Lilith to avenge Dean's death. Thus, the apocalypse is still on, though it will not be the focal point of this story.(I might do a sequel though)**

**Also, since Ruby didn't betray the Winchesters, she is still alive and occasionally helps the boys when they need it. But she will not appear exclusively in this story.**

**Now, moving on with the story...**

Chapter 2

The next day found the brothers on the road again, the impala's engine roaring softly as she sped towards her destination. The boys were reveling in the silence and the usual sense of contentment that came from being in each other's presence.

"So where exactly did you get this information?" Dean asked, despite an ominous voice telling him that he probably wouldn't like the answer.

"Ruby called. There have been an inordinate amount of deaths, all of which occurred in the same church. Ruby thinks that the demons are orchestrating a ritual of some sort. Whatever it is, it's definitely something evil. We have to stop it." Sam did not look up as his fingers continued to click away at his laptop.

"Are you sure we can trust her? She's a demon, Sam." Dean groaned.

"Of coarse not, Dean. I don't trust her either. But her information has never been wrong before."

"She could be leading us into a trap, you know." Dean grumbled under his breath."So we just be careful." His brother replied. Dean had to admit that Sam was right. Ruby's sources had never been wrong before and had helped them save countless people. Though the elder Winchester did not trust her, he had to admit that their unwilling alliance with the demon had been…useful.

So Dean had grudgingly accepted Ruby's involvement in their hunts. But the moment she outgrew her usefulness or did anything at all to hurt his baby brother, Dean would plunge his knife in her gut himself.

* * *

The brothers arrived at the nondescript town that the demons had chosen to wreak havoc on and decided to investigate the church that seemed to be the epicenter of the demonic activities that had caused numerous deaths during the previous weeks.

They entered the ancient church building and scanned the room for any immediate threats. After half an hour later of useless searching, the boys simultaneously decided to retreat, when things started going south. Half a dozen demons seemed to appear from a hidden alcove behind the altar and immediately surrounded them.

Instincts kicked in as they brought out their weapons to defend themselves. As commendable as their will to survive was, Sam knew that they needed a miracle to get out of their current predicament alive.

"Cas, we need your help." Sam sent out a feeble prayer, disappointed that no angel appeared to rescue them. A quick glance towards his brother showed him that Dean wasn't in a better shape either. Blood was seeping through his side staining his shirt a deep burgundy colour.

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. It really is a pleasure to see you again Dean."A figure clad in an elegant three-piece suit entered the room as the demons bowed their heads down in reverence. Sam watched in horror and confusion as the demon made his way towards Dean.

Maybe it was the terrified faces of the demons or maybe it was the aura of cruelty and sadism surrounding his person, but suddenly, Sam was afraid. His hunter instincts told him that he was dangerous. Sam could feel ice slipping into his stomach, the fear for his brother's safety over-riding every other emotion.

The next few events, however, made him question whether he was dreaming. Sam watched in amazement as Dean's expression changed from angry to terrified. His seemingly invincible brother was trembling in fright as the demon approached. His eyes were filled with terror. What was going on? During the course of their hunting career, Sam had seen Dean angry, murderous, happy, sad, and even almost crippled with pain. But never afraid. Dean Winchester was never afraid.

Now however, Sam was at a loss of words as he watched his big brother cower in fear. His confusion only grew as Dean managed to choke out a single word.

"Alistair."

* * *

Even though Dean was renowned for his overconfident and cocky personality, he knew that he and Sam were way over their heads. It would not be long before his aching and tired limbs gave out and the demons overpowered them.

And then HE appeared. Dean could feel the panic settling in as his worse nightmare made his way towards him. 'No. Oh God, please let this be a dream.' He could feel Sam's questioning glance towards him and yet, in that moment, nothing else mattered other than the figure before him.

"Alistair." His voice was rough with fear and he hated it. He hated that he was afraid. He hated that he was weak. He hated that this demon was the only creature that could completely dominate him and force him to surrender.

"Dean, I've missed you. Hell is just not the same without you. I've come to take you back home, boy." Alistair sneered.

"Stay the hell away from me. I'm not coming back." Dean's voice shook in fear.

"My dear boy, I'm not giving you a choice. You will obey me." Dean's knees trembled at Alistair's command. A part of him wanted to bow down to Alistair just as he had in hell. This part of him remembered the punishment for insolence and was eager to please Alistair to keep him from torturing him. Dean squashed this part in disgust.

Never again would he give in. He would fight for Sam and for himself. He could only hope that it was enough.

Suddenly a blinding white light appeared in the centre of the chapel and Castiel appeared in all his angelic glory. Dean sighed in relief as Cass zapped them away back to the security of their motel room. But Dean knew that the danger was not past and that the confrontation with Alistair was but only postponed.

* * *

The boys sat in their motel room, neither of them speaking, as they tried to catch their breath. The fateful encounter with the demon, now revealed as Alistair had left them both drained and their mental capabilities had yet to catch up to the events of the day.

Cas had transported them to safety and had just left moments ago after ensuring that the boys were uninjured. Now they sat on their respective beds reflecting on the ambush. Sam decided to break the silence first.

"Dean, what the hell happened? And who…who is this Alistair?" Sam asked with bated breath.

"He's no one Sam. Don't bother about him." Dean answered his voice eerily devoid of feeling and emotion.

"But Dean…"

"Just let it go, Sam."

Judging by the hint of anger that crept into Dean's voice, Sam knew better than to coax the truth from him. Dean's mind was fragile at best ever since his resurrection and Sam felt that it could break at the slightest touch.

Sam intuitively knew that Alistair possessed a powerful grasp on his brother's frail mind. Their encounter could have only taken place in hell, he decided. And he was also aware that Dean was not yet ready to open up about his time in perdition. But when that time came, Sam vowed to himself that he would be there to carry his brother's burdens all through the way.

* * *

Dean rolled over in his bed but sleep evaded him yet again. The events of the day were still fresh in his mind, the wounds from hell still raw and painful. He was never going to escape. He should have known better than to think that Alistair would leave him alone. It was foolish to think that he was free.

And now, despite his better judgment, Sam would be involved as well. Sam would have already established some theory as to Dean's acquaintance with Alistair. He was also waiting for an explanation, which was well within his right. His brother deserved to know.

But Dean couldn't bring himself to form the words. He couldn't tell Sam that the elder brother he idolized was a monster, a failure. He just couldn't. He had to hide the horrible, disgusting, revolting truth from Sam. He couldn't bear for him to know.

He wished, not for the first time, that he could fade into oblivion. Just forget his fears and misgiving. Sometimes he just wished he could end it all.

* * *

"Hello Dean."

The boys were speeding away to Bobby's auto salvage yard when Cas manifested himself in the back seat of the impala. The car swerved dangerously as it's startled driver struggled to regain control of his beloved automobile.

"Damn it, Cas. I've told you not to do that." Dean released a rather colourful stream of profanities.

Seeing the adorably confused expression on Cas's usually impassive face, Sam decided to take pity on the bewildered angel."Dean meant not to appear without warning, Cas."

"Oh, my apologies. I shall take care the next time I desire to meet you. However I have come to deliver urgent news. I have received word that a reward has been placed on your head by demons, Dean Winchester. It appears that the demon Alistair is determined to capture you. You must proceed with caution."

Dean visibly stiffened at the mention of Alistair but replied in his usual apathetic tone." It's not our first clash with a demon, can handle it." As he spoke these words, he sincerely hoped that they were true.

* * *

It was an understatement to say that Sam was worried. Anxiety rolled inside of him like waves, wreaking havoc on his body. The demons were after his brother…again. No….there had to be another way. He had just gotten his brother back….he couldn't lose him again.

His body trembled with fear and dread and he fought to regain his muscular functions to prevent Dean from noticing his apprehension. His mind working in overdrive, he searched the recesses of his mind for some miraculous solution to their problem, but came up empty.

Having spent the entire night wrestling with their dilemma, Sam finally surrendered to a fitful slumber, giving way to the nightmares literally plagued by demons that haunted them.

* * *

Dean revved up the engine of his impala, it's roar piercing the silence of the night. As the impala raced ahead, the road flying under her wheels, Dean struggled to control the myriad of emotions storming inside him, trying to break out.

He struggled to make sense of the chaos, to rationalise his jumbled thoughts. So Alistair was coming after him again. Ofcoarse he was. Dean hadn't expected him to give up. So why was he panicking now. But his stubborn mind refused to accept any logic or rationalization and continued to swirl in a whirlpool of fear and trepidation.

He glanced at Sam only to find him asleep. A slight tremor rocked Sam's body as a whimper escaped his lips. He could guess at the nightmare that was plaguing his little brother. He reached out to him hoping to convey some semblance of comfort.

Suddenly things spiraled out of control. One minute Dean was driving through an expanse of a deserted farmland with no hint of civilization for miles around while the next minute they were jumped by a dark, black cloud consisting of a herd of demons.

Besides him Sam jostled awake as a loud crash echoed eerily in air. They didn't know what hit them as another explosion erupted right in front of their car. The boys scrambled to avoid the debrii ricocheting off the car but to no avail and soon lost their hold on consciousness.

**AN: Hope you are enjoying so far. Do take a second to leave a review. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story, my writing etc. Suggestions are also welcome.**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: My sincere thanks to all those who have been following my story. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!**

**Special thanks to "Stone120" and "babyreaper" for your lovely reviews. They really make my day.**

**Without further ado...**

Chapter 3

A pained groan escaped Dean's lips as his mind fought to maintain its grasp on consciousness. After a few minutes of struggling he finally managed to locate his eyes and forced them to open. His eyes fluttered as a sharp pain made itself known at the back of his skull.

He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the pain in favour of examining his surroundings and finding out just how he got here. Unfortunately, his brain refused to corporate. It took him a few more minutes before he could get his bearings.

And suddenly, like a rush of water breaking through a dam, the events of the previous night came rushing back at him. His mind jerked into focus. The relief of regaining his mental operation however was short-lived as his surroundings became known to him.

Dean felt his blood freeze to ice as he realised that his arms and legs were bound, his mind immediately recalled the torturous time he had spent in hell; bound on the rack….helpless….broken.

'Sam. Where was Sam?' He looked around frantically, sighing with both relief and defeat as he spotted Sam in the same position as himself. Fear and panic coursed through his veins as he took a deep breath to remain calm.

A soft groan informed him that Sam had regained his hold on consciousness."Sammy, you okay?" Dean asked.

"Dean? What…..where are we? What happened?" Sam finally managed to form coherent sentences.

But before Dean could reply, a chillingly cold voice interrupted them.

"Welcome to my home, Dean."

* * *

"Alistair." Dean choked out. The panic trickling trough his body took on apocalyptic proportions. No…..no…..not again. He couldn't go through this again. And Sam….he had to protect Sam. He had to protect him from Alistair.

He was shaken out of his frantic reverie as Alistair approached him with confident, measured steps."I'm so glad that you and Sam could grace my humble abode with your presence. It's not as homey as hell ofcoarse but I did my best. I even acquired the same decorative appliances to make you comfortable too." Alistair picked up a rather small knife, akin to a scalpel, and held it up to the dim light; the sharp edges glinting dangerously.

Dean shuddered involuntarily and tried to avert his attention from the deadly knife. Meanwhile, Sam seemed to have regained some of his faculties and succeeded in voicing out some of his frustrations."Who the hell are you? What do you want with my brother?"

"_Tsk…tsk _Dean. I can't believe that you haven't recounted your countless exploits for your brother. I'm sure that Sam would appreciate hearing about them." Alistair chuckled in amusement." However that can be easily remedied."

"Don't you dare you….." Dean yelled out but was interrupted yet again.

"Quiet, boy. I have not given you permission to speak. Rest assured that there will be plenty of time for you to make use of your starved vocal chords." Alistair picked up his knife again, and in that moment Dean knew that all was lost.

* * *

Sam woke up to an intense headache and an intense wave of nausea that he fought to suppress. He sifted through his hazy mind and tried to determine what had happened before his last conscious thought."Sammy? You okay?" he heard his brother's voice call out to him. Finally he regained enough control to crack open his eyes and felt relieved to locate his brother nearby. It didn't take long, however, before the relief transformed into apprehension.

"Dean….What? Where are we? What happened?" Sam finally succeeded in asking, his voice hoarse and rough. But before his brother could offer some semblance of reassurance, a voice, or rather, a demon made himself known.

The cold voice chilled Sam to the bone. He watched in disgusted confusion as the demon, Alistair, welcomed them into the godforsaken dungeon. _'As if we are here by our own choice'_ he scoffed.

"I'm so glad that you and Sam could grace my humble abode with your presence. It's not as homey as hell ofcoarse but I did my best. I even acquired the same decorative appliances to make you comfortable too." Alistair said conversationally.

Sam felt a wave of anger as Alistair confirmed that his acquaintance with Dean traced back to the time Dean spent in hell. Quite possibly, he was the cause of his brother's torment in hell, the scars of which were still fresh and raw in Dean's broken mind.

."Who the hell are you? What do you want with my brother?" Sam yelled out in rage. In hindsight, aggravating their captor was probably not the smartest idea. Luckily, Alistair seemed not to notice and continued his tirade; each word significantly increasing his anxiety by leaps and bonds.

"_Tsk…tsk _Dean. I can't believe that you haven't recounted your countless exploits for your brother. I'm sure that Sam would appreciate hearing about them. However that can be easily remedied." Alistair replied, amusement colouring his tone.

Apart from the initial resentment, a trickle of curiosity invaded his mind. The time Dean spent in hell was shrouded in mystery that his brother had refused to reveal, even to him. His body involuntarily tensed in anticipation. Immediately though, guilt flooded his consciousness. His elder brother had suffered through unimaginable nightmares in perdition. His brother would tell him everything when is ready. But the temptation to learn about the monsters that haunted his dreams…..

"Don't you dare you….." Dean shouted out. Behind the fury Sam uneasily detected the undercurrent of fear and desperation in Dean's voice. His stomach tightened unpleasantly in anticipation of what was to come next.

Alistair silenced Dean again. "Quiet, boy. I have not given you permission to speak. Rest assured that there will be plenty of time for you to make use of your starved vocal chords." This ominous sentence had Sam quivering in fear and as Alistair picked up a wicked looking knife, Sam screamed out in horror.

Alistair chuckled as he traced the instrument along Dean's sternum, leaving behind a trail of blood in it's wake. His brother winced in pain but otherwise didn't let out a sound. A feeling of utter dread and helplessness overcame Sam, his eyes unable to stray from the crimson liquid. "No. Please". Sam begged.

Alistair continued on, ignoring his pleas, this time eliciting a pained gasp from Dean. "You know Sam, you should be proud of your brother. Never have I seen in my entire lifetime, a human so determined to revolt against the destructive forces of hell; to resist becoming a demon. And he never did transform into one till the end, did he." Alistair sighed.

Then recovering his sick, sadistic humor, he went on. "You cannot imagine the fun we had, especially in the last ten years before his escape."

Sam gasped audibly in confusion. "Ten years?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"You didn't tell him?" Alistair asked gleefully, digging the damned knife deeper into his abdomen, causing Dean to cry out in pain. Sam shivered at sound of his brother in agony, once again pleading the demon to stop.

"Oh! This is just wonderful. Oh, wouldn't Sam just love to hear about this, Dean! You see, Sam, hell and earth exist on different planes, much like earth and heaven. Thus the time flow between them is different as well. The time your brother spent in hell translated to four months _on earth_. However, that time equalled forty years in hell!"

This piece of news left Sam staggering. _Forty years..…forty years in hell..…forty… _Sam stared at his brother in horror. He knew that the time spent in hell had been the personification of the worse nightmares imaginable, yet he had no idea it was so bad. No wonder Dean was so heavily scarred. _Forty years… _

Alistair worked the knife deep into Dean's skin, eliciting a choked cry from his brother. "No…no…please don't….stop hurting him…" Sam could only beg, though already knowing it was in vain. Alistair laughed.

"I admit that the length of Dean's stubborn refusal to give in surprised me. Thirty years…thirty years of uninterrupted pain and torture endured with bravery and dignity…." Alistair's voice took on a dark edge here, "…and I broke him…I finally broke him…I reduced him to a begging, withering mass of flesh…."

Sam listened in fear and alarm, his brain refusing to acknowledge what his ears heard. The stinging moisture in his eyes finally brimmed over and descended down his cheeks. He could scarcely believe the monster in front of him.

As long as he could remember, Dean had been the epitome of strength and endurance. His big brother would barely cry out despite the numerous beatings and injuries he had sustained over the years. But if hell had succeeded in breaking his brother….hell had just become a terrifying place for the younger Winchester.

Alistair's gloating broke his train of thought. "I broke him…and he begged…begged to be spared."Sam's tears flowed with renewed force. He grieved for his brother's plight, for his brother's pain. He cried for the impossible situations they were always stuck with.

He tried to meet Dean's eyes, to somehow convey his love and understanding, but Dean looked away in shame. Meanwhile, Alistair seemed to have grown bored with chatter. Sam watched with growing trepidation as Alistair's eyes took on an almost maniacal sheen as he uttered his next words.

"Now we're going to have some fun."

* * *

Dean's blood froze all over again with Alistair's declaration. The wretched memories from hell cruelly supplied him with the understanding of what was to come next. He knew it was only a matter of time before he broke…again. No…no…he had to stay strong. Sam…He had to protect Sam. He couldn't give up. He had to fight…But could he? His mind subconsciously recalled a memory…

_"Dean, Dean, Dean" Alistair spoke in a voice akin to a parent gently reprimanding his child."Haven't I told you before that fighting me will only cause you more pain?"_

_"Argh…" he cried out as Alistair slashed his body in familiar patterns, the agony increasing exponentially with each stroke."Please stop…please…I…I won't…do it again. Please…no more…no more…" A wave of self loathing and disgust consumed him. Oh, if his father could see him right now, weeping like a pathetic baby. Or worse, if Sam could see his invincible big brother so shattered and broken. Shame and self-pity wrung his body and he choked out a sob._

_Alistair twisted his butcher knife deep into his gut and an unbearable, intolerable, white-hot agony wreaked his body. The pain dominated his body and soul. He couldn't feel, couldn't think…nothing was real, but the pain._

_Hate… anger…self loathing…disgust…pity…shame…humiliation…dignity… all was forgotten. Nothing mattered any more. All that mattered was the pain."No…no…please stop…I won't disobey again….stop…" Agony flared inside him like a forestfire, consuming everything in it's path. He just wanted it to stop. He couldn't take it anymore._

_"You know the rules, boy. Disobey my command and you will suffer. You should know better by have no power. You are weak; completely at my mercy. I am your master and you WILL do as I say. Do you understand?"_

_"Yes"_

* * *

Alistair knew that he had an intangible power over Dean. Once he broke him, he could command his obedience with just a word, and Dean would follow. Alistair had completely broken him and then rebuilt him from a scratch. He had trained him with an iron fist; moulding Dean into a perfect little soldier, his protégé. And Dean had been unable to fight, to resist.

But all things aside, Dean's compliance had not come easy. Even Alistair acknowledged that. Dean had foughthim every step of the way. After all, it had taken him thirty long years to break him. Dean had been his greatest challenge.

But even after Dean had surrendered, Alistair knew that he had never quite succeeded in completely crushing his rebellious streak. Dean Winchester was his own man and it was not in his nature to bow down to anyone. He knew that if he let him, it was only a matter of time before Dean recovered from his lapse.

Alistair understood that in order to conquer Dean Winchester he had to completely crush his will to fight; destroy his soul so that he can never rise again. And he had been so close…so close.

But then that angel had descended and unleashed his holy wrath on hell and rescued Dean from his clutches. Well, no matter. Dean Winchester was under his power again and no one,not even Sam Winchester could prevent him from claiming what was rightly his.

* * *

Dean had never been susceptible to religion. He had lost his faith in God the day his mother's life was claimed by the merciless clutches of the fire that had had devastated his home and family. And yet today he found himself praying to any supreme power that may be listening. He didn't pray to be delivered; he scarcely ever bothered to pray for his own despicable self. No, he prayed that if shreds of mercy and goodness still existed in the world, that his brother be spared from the horrors to come.

In his line of work, Dean had become quite familiar with cruelty and evil and had learnt to accept their existence. Sometimes, after drowning himself in the miserable grasps of alcohol, he even feared that one day all the evil and darkness that he hunted would engulf him too, until he himself became one with the darkness. In those times of insecurities, it had been Sam who had shone brighter than the sun and kept him from losing himself to the darkness. Sam, with his kind, gentle heart and innocent, dimpled smile, who kept him afloat in rough waters. Sam kept him sane. Sam was his only family, his reason to live.

It had been Dean's job to protect Sam ever since his father had placed baby Sammy in his arms and told him to run out from the burning house and not look back. If Dean believed in those things, he might have said that it was his destiny to take care of Sam. And Dean knew that he had failed his purpose in life miserably.

Dean watched with ever increasing fear as Alistair approached him. He had seen that look in his eyes before. It used to overwhelm him with fear before and it executed it's job perfectly now. He clenched his eyes shut and awaited whatever treatment Alistair had to offer. He cried out in pain as he felt the cold knife sink deep under his skin. He didn't dare open his eyes.

He barely registered Sam's scream as his little brother begged Alistair to spare Dean. Dean tried to keep the volume of his own cries down to a minimum but failed dismally as he let out another scream.

As the agony overpowered his body, his mind was almost delirious with pain. The pain clouded his senses and he almost believed that he was back in hell again. He was trapped in the unending darkness helpless against the onslaught of pain that nearly crippled him. He was in hell again and this time there was no light, no escape; only pain.

He was sinking into the dark abyss of oblivion and nothingness. His consciousness desperately clawed at the remnants of reality. But it was no use. He was falling off the edge of his sanity into the depth of chaos. He called out to his brother, hoping that Sam could ground him and prevent him from stumbling.

_Sammy…I'm sorry _was his last coherent thought before he submitted to the void of oblivion that beckoned him.

* * *

This was it. This was how they were going to die. Sam could only weep at the sight of his brother in agony as he watched on helplessly. He wished he could offer some form of comfort to Dean; promise him that he was not alone in death and assure him of his forgiveness for his exploits in hell. He wished that he could atleast thank his brother for everything he had sacrifed in his life for Sam. He wished he could say that he loved him…

But they were going to die and he would never get the chance to convey these thoughts to his brother. He sobbed in grief and cried tears of defeat and helplessness. There would be no savior to rescue them now. This was the end.

And then he was blinded by a blazing white light that erupted in the middle of the room. His eyes hurt from gazing at the bright ball of light. His body finally gave in to the fatigue caused by the physical and mental turmoil of the previous days and he willingly gave in to the exhaustion as a soft, familiar voice lulled him to sleep.

**AN: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. God knows there is a small dark corner in my heart that has an affinity for a hurt, injured Dean. **

**Please do take a second to review. I'd love to know if my readers are enjoying my story or not. Reviews really encourage me to write faster; so more reviews mean faster updates!**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Firstly, thanks to babyreaper for your reviews. I love to hear what you think of my story.**

**Also, I have some important exams coming up next week during which my computer privelages will be banned. So, I'll probably not be updating for the next 2-3 weeks. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but these are important exams and I need to focus on them. Wish me luck!**

**Moving on to the story, I hope you enjoy the twist this chapter brings. And there are more surprises in the coming chapters as well. Enjoy!**

Chapter 4

Bobby glanced at the slumbering figure of the boys as they caught up on some well deserved rest. _His boys_…he thought, a fond expression gracing his usually gruff features. His mind inadvertently brought up memories of Sam and Dean as toddlers, running about his house like whirlwinds, their laughter and mischief brightening his otherwise lonely house.

As Bobby now gazed at the tired faces of his boys, worn by the dangers and hardships of the life they had willingly condemned themselves to, his heart surged with pity and he wished that they could have a happy and safe life that they both deserved.

His gaze finally returned to the other, rather unexpected occupant of his room. The runaway archangel…the Trickster…Gabriel, who was standing against the further wall, his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. Gabriel's stoic expression was a far cry from the mischievously playful smirk that Sam had warned him about when they had discovered the true identity of the infamous trickster. He recalled with apprehension the disruptive events that had occurred in this very room just a few hours earlier.

_Bobby had been anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Winchesters. They were expected to have arrived hours ago and had sent him no message as to their whereabouts. In an act of desperation he had prayed to Castiel, or more accurately demanded that he get his feathered behind to his house. His concern had only increased exponentially when no angel had appeared._

_And then,suddenly, the room had exploded in a flurry of sound and lightening and Gabriel had materialized in the room. However, even more shocking than the appearance of the ex-archangel was the bloody form of none other than Castiel himself, being supported by an anxious Gabriel. _

_"Where are Sam and Dean?" Gabriel had demanded, preempting Bobby's demand for explanations. Reluctantly, Bobby had revealed their MIA status. Then Gabriel had vanished just as abruptly as he had arrived._

_While Bobby had busied himself in taking care of the unconscious Cass's injuries, Gabriel had emerged yet again, this time with a comatose Sam and Dean. His heart had nearly leaped out of his throat as he took in the battered form of the boys, especially Dean who was bleeding a river of blood on his threadbare carpet._

He had fixed up the injured and ofcoarse having an archangel with healing abilities had been particularly helpful. Now that everyone was sufficiently taken care of, he was ready to get some answers.

"You wanna explain what just happened?" he asked.

The former archangel rolled his eyes and then conceded to his demand with a sigh of defeat.

" I received word from one of my…_sources_…that my idiotic little brother had let himself get captured by one of Alistair's minions. I _convinced_ a demon to reveal his location to me." Well, '_convinced_' might be putting it too lightly, but Bobby needn't know about the agonising havoc he had wreaked upon the poor demon that could have put even Lucifer's sadistic nature to shame.

"Anyway, I went to rescue said little brother but even in his injured state he wouldn't stop blabbering about those damned Winchesters. So, at Cass's _desperate _pleas, I generously agreed to waste my precious time and energy to save those worthless idiotic humans that Cassie is so fond of." Gabriel punctuated his speech with an irritable sigh.

"Hey! Who're you calling worthless and idiotic?" As always, Bobby's long buried protective instincts flared into life to ward off any threats or insults directed towards his boys.

"Apparently, these boys are devoid of any sense of self preservation and they're dragging Castiel into a fight they can't possibly win. They're going to get him killed!"

Bobby's equally loud and explosive retort was interrupted by a soft moan as Sam regained his hold on consciousness. Immediately, the old hunter appeared by his side and helped him sit up against the headboard.

"B..Bobby? W…What?...How?" In his current state, Sam managed about as much eloquence as a drunk monkey.

His eyes grew more and more incredulous as Bobby narrated Gabriel's rescue. All the while, however, the hero of the narrative remained silent, standing stoically in the corner. As Bobby finished his tale, Sam finally looked at the Trickster/Archangel. A lenghthy pause ensued.

"Why did you help us?" Sam's voice was saturated with distrust and suspicion. His mind invariably going back to the Mystery Spot where he had watched his brother die a hundred times over while he stood on the sidelines helpless to prevent it.

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for Cass." Gabriel answered. His apathetic tone had an edge of derision in it. _'Speaking of Cass, where was he?'_ Sam thought and then proceeded to run his sight over the room in search of the angel. His gaze rested on the figure of the aforementioned angel huddled on Bobby's couch.

Following his gaze, Gabriel answered his unspoken question. "He'll be alright, no thanks to you or your brother. He just needs to rest."

The snide tone of Gabriel's voice coupled with the stress of their recent trauma was strong enough to break Sam's usual calm demeanor and caused him to lash out as well. "We had no idea he was captured or we would have helped him. At least we've been there for him through this whole apocalypse mess unlike his own brothers who abandoned him!"

"_Don't you dare, _Winchester. You know _nothing_. You're just an _insignificant, measly_ human whom I can _crush_ with my little finger. So don't even _pretend_ that you know me or have any right to judge me. You are _nothing_ but a helpless,worthless, bug that I will not hesitate to _crush_ beneath my feet." With these heated words Gabriel disappeared once again in the echo of fluttering wings.

* * *

Sam and Bobby sat silently, each with a glass of hunter's helper in their hands that Bobby had generously supplied. An awkward silence hung about the room following Gabriel's impromptu departure. Both were lost in their own thoughts.

Bobby finally grew impatient and scrambled to break the ice and end the awkward silence in his usual subtle way.

"What the hell did you idgits get yourself into this time?"

Sam flinched at Bobby's voice and remained silent for several moments.

"We were jumped." Sam answered in a strangely detached voice.

Well that just explained everything. Not.

"And…?" Bobby questioned, unable to keep the impatience from his voice. Sam refused to answer for several seconds and resolutely did not meet Bobby's curious eyes. Finally, after a long, excruciating second, Sam's carefully constructed façade shattered and Sam surrendered to the torrent of warm tears that ran down his cheeks in riverettes.

"I…It.. wa…was a…demon..f..from..Dean's..ti..ime in..h..hell." Sam managed to choke out."Oh God…Bobby…he…he….."

Bobby could only watch helplessly as the youngest Winchester sobbed his heart out. He couldn't fathom what his boys had been through in the last few hours that had succeeded in completely breaking Sam. Whatever it was, it had clearly been strong enough to overpower Dean and Sam and to subject them to unimaginable horrors.

Realising that Sam was too distraught and exhausted to reveal anything else, Bobby decided that the matter could wait a while. And so, Bobby did something he had never imagined a tough and hardened hunter like himself was capable of. He patted Sam's shoulder and attempted to offer some shred of comfort.

"It's alright now, Sam. It's alright. You're safe now."

* * *

"Goddamn, stupid, stubborn Winchesters." Bobby muttered to himself as he glanced at Sam's form yet again, which was considerably difficult as the avid researcher had built himself a fort of ancient books and texts.

Studying the hard set of Sam's facial features, Bobby attempted yet again something he knew would be useless and somewhat redundant. And that was getting a hard-headed, obstinate Winchester to listen to reason.

"Sam, listen to me. Atleast think this through. I know that you're…angry, but this is suicidal. Atleast think of your brother, you idgit!"

"I _am _thinking of Dean, Bobby. Alistair won't rest until he has Dean again. The only logical solution is to kill him before he kills Dean." Sam was obviously determined to extract revenge for his brother. His body was tense and anger and downright terrifying rage rolled off his person in waves. The righteous fury was almost tangible.

Judging by what Sam had told him after recovering from his breakdown, Bobby honestly couldn't blame him. He was enraged himself at the thought of some demon hurting is boys. Yet he also knew that ganking this particular demon would be no easy task. And he was not ready to lose either of the boys to recklessness.

"Sam, this is not some lowly demon that you can exorcise by uttering a few latin words. He was strong enough to capture you and your brother. He won't hesitate to kill you, or worse, drag you both to hell. We need to think this through."

Sam was silent for several seconds and Bobby wondered if his words had managed to make the boy see some sense.

"I _need_ to destroy the demon, Bobby. I _have_ to make him pay for what he did to Dean. _I have_ _to."_

Or maybe not, Bobby thought with a sigh. "Goddamn, stupid, stubborn Winchesters."

* * *

Sam abruptly closed the thick, dusty, ancient book he had been going through and slumped in his chair. A tired sigh escaped his chapped lips and he rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Dean was still unconscious, taking his own sweet time to recover from his ordeal. As was Castiel.

And he was still no closer to killing his brother's tormenter than before.

"Damnit" He muttered and decided that some fresh air would be helpful in restarting his tired, overworked brain.

He walked out to the porch grabbing a beer from the kitchen on his way and sat down on the worn, wooden steps.

Taking a swig of the beer he let his thoughts run wild. He knew from the training he had received from his dad that it was important to remain calm and composed under duress. _"You are no good to anyone if you can't keep your head in the game. Stay calm, think, plan, and then take action. You're no good to anyone if you're dead."_ John's words echoed in his brain.

His dad had trained him to be a cold, calculating hunter when the situation demanded and he had learned well. But for some inexplicable reason, all that training went out of the window when it came to Dean…his big brother…his saviour…his protector.

Losing Dean to hell had been bad enough the first time. He had surrendered himself to alcohol and self-neglect then. He didn't think he could survive that again. His world had been torn apart into a million pieces. And it had only been put back together with Dean's return. Now Dean was about to be ripped away from him again.

_"No. Damnit. This is not the time to be panicking. Calm down. Think."_ Sam ordered himself. He had spent days scouring Bobby's old books but kept coming up empty. They had no plan, no safety net. They rarely ever did. But maybe…maybe…

He hadn't found any way to kill Alistair. But there was someone who might know. He knew Dean wouldn't appreciate the extra help. But he could deal with an angry Dean. It was infinitely better than dealing with a dead one.

He fished out his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the number. _Oh well, desperate times called for desperate measures._

* * *

A lone figure stood in a decrepit alley. The dark shadow of the cul-de-sac loomed over the figure, disguising it's features and hiding it's identity. A sharp buzz from a cell phone rudely interrupts the silence of the night.

"What?" The voice seems almost harsh as it slices through the deadly silent atmosphere.

"You can't be serious….it's impossible…..No…I don't know…no way….I'm telling you….it's impossible…fine…..…just so you know, this is suicide…." A sigh.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do, Sam"

* * *

**AN: Please review to let me know what you think. I'd like to know if you're enjoying my story. Constructive criticism is welcome.**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:I'm sorry for the long wait. But my exams are over now so hopefully I'll be updating more!**

**A huge thanks to all those who reviewed my story or added it to their alert list. **

Chapter 5

_Sam struggled against the invisible confines that pinned him to the wall. His tired muscles ached with the pointless effort, yet he strived to keep fighting. He couldn't give up._

_He watched in fear and horror as Lilith made her way towards Dean. Her mouth moved but he couldn't hear the spoken words above his hammering heart. It was time._

_He could only watch helplessly as Lilith opened the door with a sick twisted smile on her face and set loose the hounds of hell on his brother._

_A choked cry escaped his lips as the bloodthirsty hellhounds attacked Dean and devoured his body. Bloody gashes appeared on his brother's body and blood pooled on the ground below as the invisible dogs tore him apart. "No…Dean!" Sam screamed out as his beloved brother lost the fight of his life._

_"NOOOOOO…"_

Sam startled awake and nearly knocked down the table he had graciously been using as a pillow. His heart was thundering as if he had just run a marathon and his shirt was soaked in cold sweat. The sound of his breathless gasps was interrupted by Bobby's voice.

"You okay, boy?" The older hunter asked in concern.

"Yeah…yeah…just a nightmare." Sam assured him. No, not a nightmare. A memory. Sam couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine.

Feeling Bobby's scrutinizing gaze still fixed on him, he said, "Honestly Bobby, I'm fine."

Sam sighed inaudibly. "Did Dean or Cass wake up yet?"

"No. The sleeping beauties are still sleeping. Guess they need more time to recover." Bobby replied.

Sam nodded and decided that a shower was in order. Before that though, he subtly checked his phone. No missed calls. No messages. Damn.

His contact must not have found any information yet. He willed himself not to give in to a panic attack. There was still time. Miracles could still happen…._Yeah right_.

With another soft sigh Sam headed towards the bathroom hopefully to wash away the dirt, grime and the persistent hopelessness that seemed to have become a constant presence in his life.

* * *

Sam ran a towel through his damp hair as he came out of the shower and decided to check on Dean once again. They had shifted Dean and Cass to the panic room some time during the night.

As he entered the iron clad room his gaze immediately sifted to his sleeping brother. Sam had always enjoyed watching Dean sleep. He seemed so calm and peaceful, without a single care in the world. Lost to the world of dreams, Dean's expression always personified a child-like innocence and made him look about a decade younger.

Ofcoarse, as of late, these nights occurred once in a blue moon. Dean barely ever had the good luck to sleep through the night peacefully ever since his return from hell. His brother was plagued by horrifying nightmares every night; the extent of which Sam was only beginning to comprehend after their visit to Alistair's lair.

Hesitantly, he sat down next to his brother and ran a gentle hand through his cropped blonde hair. The past year had taken a toll on both of them, yet Dean seemed to have taken it so much worse. The weight of the world rested on his shoulders; literally.

God must have a really twisted sense of humor. Aren't their own demons bad enough to deal with that God had to dump the apocalypse on them too? Sam was brought out of his musings as a soft moan interrupted his train of thought.

"Dean?...Dean, you awake?" Sam sighed in relief as Dean let out another groan.

"Sammy?"

"About damn time."

* * *

Dean groggily registered the familiar hand that caressed his hair. Sammy? It had to be. He would recognize those gentle and loving hands anywhere.

"About damn time." Yes, the tenure of the gentle voice was definitely Sammy. Though Dean was a little confused by the sprinkle of relief that was diluted in Sam's voice. Why did Sam sound relieved?

Dean tried to get his worn out body to respond but immediately stopped as a sharp, burning pain erupted in the general region of his torso. Was he hurt? How? Had they been on a hunt? He couldn't really remember. How did he get injured?

Deciding that there were far too many questions than there were answers, and being of his usual impatient temperament, Dean ignored the persistent sting in his chest and tried to sit up again. This time strong arms wrapped around his weak body and helped him to lean against the headboard.

"Easy Dean, your body is still healing." Sam advised.

"What the hell happened? I feel like I was hit by a truck." A soft groan made its way through his lips. It took him a moment to realise that Sam's lack of answer was deliberate.

"Sam?"

"What do you remember?" The solemn, almost ominous edge in Sam's voice was enough to jerk his mind into focus. A frown etched on his face as he tried to recall his memories.

"Don't force yourself, Dean. You'll remember when you're ready to deal with it. Don't overwork your mind."

"What the hell, Sam. What happened to me? Just spit it out!" Dean yelled. Something was wrong. Dean could almost feel a sense of dread seeping into his bones.

Thankfully, Sam was saved from replying by Bobby.

"Quit your yapping, boy. And come up and eat something. We'll talk later."

And with that, the trio walked up to the kitchen; well, Dean stumbled up the stairs, stubbornly refusing any help from Sam. They all subconsciously knew that the next few weeks or maybe ever months, were going to be far from easy. Oh well, it was doubtful that the Winchesters even knew what easy was anymore.

The boys sat silently at the table as Bobby handed them plates overflowing with sandwiches. The tension surrounding them was so thick that it could be cut with a knife. No one dared to break the quiet, fearing that a ticking time bomb might explode.

Dean was aware that Sam and Bobby were watching his every move like hawks. Like he was a volcano due to erupt at any moment. He should be annoyed, he supposed. But he couldn't bring himself to care. He had more important things to worry about.

Like what the hell happened to him or why his body resembled an Egyptian mummy. Sam was being as tight lipped as a clam. Bobby was no help either. Seriously, what happened to him? And why couldn't he remember?

Finally, the watchful eyes of the other occupants of the room became too much for his already tensed nerves. What was worse was that he was too tired to even summon enough energy to snap at them. What was the world coming too? So, he settled for distracting them.

"So, how's Cass?" Having wrung that particular story from his brother when he saw the unconscious angel in the panic room, Dean couldn't help but worry. Sure, the renegade archangel had said that Cass would be fine, but still…

"Maybe he just needs more time to recover." Sam suggested. But his face betrayed the anxiousness that the hunter felt. It wasn't exactly normal for angels to sleep, after all. And Cass had been slumbering for a while.

As if Dean did not have enough to worry about; his injuries, his amnesia, Sam's secrecy about the mysterious event that caused this mess, the obvious fear and pain in Sam's eyes when he looked at him, Cass's comatose state, the unnamed demon that put Cass in a comatose state, and ofcoarse the apocalypse that was still looming around the corner; another disturbing item was now added to the already long list.

Gabriel. The runaway archangel. The arrogant trickster. Castiel's traitorous brother. Why had Gabriel helped them? Last time they crossed paths, the archangel had wanted them to surrender to his elder siblings and unleash the apocalypse on the world. Yet, now he had actually saved them from….from whatever it was that had almost killed them. Really, why couldn't Sam just tell him what had happened?

Another possibility occurred to him then; what if he never regained his memory…?

Dean shook his head at this thought and refused to even consider the possibility. Abruptly, he stood up from the table and turned to go up to his bedroom.

"Dean?" Sam asked, startled by Dean's abrupt departure.

"I'm going to hit the sack, Sam. I have a headache." And with that Dean disappeared up the stairs for the night.

* * *

Sam stared at his brother's back until he vanished through the door. His gaze fell on Dean's plate which still contained more than half of the original amount of food. A weary sigh escaped his lips.

"He'll be alright, Sam. He just needs time." Bobby assured him.

"But he doesn't even remember what happened, Bobby! I wish he'd never remember. But with our luck, it'll probably come back to him in full force. And Dean can't handle that. He's not ready. The things he had to suffer…"

"Easy, Sam, easy. If he does remember, we'll help him through it. Now, let's call it a night. We're all tired. We'll figure it out tomorrow."

Sam nodded in consent."I'll just check on Cass first."

* * *

Gazing at the unconscious angel, Sam felt a burst of pity swell in him. Cass was being hunted down by his own brethren just because the angel of Thursday was too compassionate, too virtuous and believed in humanity. Sam couldn't help but feel guilty for putting Cass in such a situation, yet he was glad that the angel was on their side.

And this was how he was rewarded with for rebelling for the Winchesters, for humanity. With another defeated sigh, Sam turned and left the panic room and the angel who was lost to the world of dreams.

* * *

When he had run away from heaven, his home, Gabriel's only motive was to get away from his broken family. His elder brothers' arguing and quarreling had broken his spirit so completely and thoroughly that he had believed that his only solace was to escape from the gilded gates of heaven.

Since then he had wondered, countless number of times, the consequences of his actions. He often speculated if the hopeless life he was stuck in would be any different if only he had had the sensibility to think before he had acted. But Michael and Lucifer had been fighting so much…

Over the next hundred thousand years that he had been disguised as Loki, he had only one regret. And that was leaving his little brother, the infant Castiel behind. For years he had tried to search for news about his little brother, begging for scraps of knowledge like a wild dog desperate for rotten food.

But all the superior magic in the world had been unable to inform him more than the fact that Castiel was alive and in heaven. This meager information had hardly quenched his thirst. Yet, he was helpless to do anything but to repent cutting off all ties from heaven.

But ever since the news that Castiel had successfully descended in hell and raised the righteous man from perdition reached his ears, his monotonous life had gained a new perspective. He had acquired a purpose in his life. He made it his mission to keep watch over the young angel and try to keep him from harm. To fulfill the duty that Michael had given him so long ago. To protect and nurture his little fledgling.

Ofcoarse, now he had failed in his self-imposed mission. Miserably.

He continued to keep watch over the sleeping angel like a guardian watching over his charge. His sentry was disturbed a few hours later by the sound of shuffling feet. He didn't bother turning around; already knowing who had interrupted his vigil.

"Gabriel?"

* * *

Sam startled awake in the middle of the night and glanced at his slumbering brother in a panicked haze. He attempted to snap out of his recurring nightmare and suppress his uneven breathing.

After lying awake for a few more minutes, he gave up on going back to sleep. He couldn't handle another repeat of the nightmare that constantly haunted him. An inexplicable urge encouraged him to check up on Cass again.

Getting out of his bed quietly so as to not wake his brother up, Sam made his way down to the panic room. However, he jerked to a stop when he noticed a figure standing over Cass's cot. His instincts compelled him to reach for the gun at his back before remembering that he had placed it under his pillow before going to bed. He cursed at himself and then gasped as he recognised the figure illuminated by a sliver of the silver moonlight cascading through the wire mess at the top that had been given the shape of a devil's trap.

"Gabriel?"

The deathly silence of the night continued for another minute or so as Sam processed the recent events through his sleep-ridden mind. He debated whether to view the ex-archangel as a threat and demand the intruder to leave; he did kill Dean, after all; or consider the archangel as their ally and let him stay.

But really, what choice did he have? The archangel would do as he damn well pleased. Sam could neither demand nor request something from him. Sam belatedly realized just how powerful Gabriel really was.

"What's the matter, Sammy? Cat got your tongue?" Gabriel teased even though he hadn't turned around. Sam abstractly wondered if it was just his overactive imagination or if Gabriel's voice actually sounded a little strange; somehow tired and…defeated. It seemed to resemble the intonation of a man worn out and rendered hopeless by the hardships of life.

Finally, Sam succeeded in voicing out a question of his own.

"Why are you here, Gabriel?"

Gabriel sighed and then surprisingly consented to give an answer instead of a witty rebuttal.

"I came to check on Cass." The way Gabriel replied, it was as if the archangel was admitting a weakness; like loving someone from the bottom of your heart was a mistake. And Sam was sure that Gabriel loved Cass. The affection and adoration he had seen on Gabriel's face as he watched over his younger sibling had definitely been legitimate. Sam had often seen a similar expression on Dean's face when his brother looked at him, in those rare moments in which Dean showed that he cared for Sam. There was no mistaking it.

" Is Cass going to be okay? You said he was alright. Then why are you checking on him? And why hasn't he woken up yet?"

Gabriel took a deep breath as he prepared to answer the torrent of questions. He was, however, interrupted by an agonising cry of pain that reverberated through the entire house. Sam's blood ran cold as he raced towards the source of the scream.

"DEAN!"

* * *

**AN: I'd love to know what you think of the story so far. Do review and let me know!**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: A BIG thankyou to all my lovely reviewers. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.**

Chapter 6

A piercing scream echoed throughout the shack that was Bobby's house causing all the occupants, except the unconscious angel, to rush to the epicenter of the disturbance.

The cry of pain reiterated itself in Sam's mind even after the silence of the night was restored. With a heavy heart Sam entered the room that he had shared with his brother ever since they were kids. He found his brother crouched on the ground, clutching his head as if in pain.

"Dean! What's wrong? What happened? Dean! Answer me!" Sam demanded sitting down next to him.

"Hurts… Sam..it hurts…" Dean gasped out. Sam could only watch in alarm as Dean let out a whimper of pain. Just as the overwhelming panic was about to consume Sam, God or whatever mystical being was out there decided to have mercy on them and Dean collapsed under the strain he went through and passed out in his brother's arms.

"Dean….Dean….wha..what….how…" Sam trailed off in a barely discernible chatter.

He didn't even notice when Gabriel had followed him in the room. He turned towards the archangel when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Sam, it's alright. Dean's going to be alright." Gabriel continued to comfort the distressed hunter. " It's alright. It's probably the result of the mental barricade but he'll be alright, I swear!"

"What?" Sam asked, confused by Gabriel's words. _Did he say a mental barricade?_

"Sam, I know you're confused, but just calm down, okay. I'll explain everything. But first, let's get you a drink, yeah? You need it."

Sam was too besieged to do anything but to follow the archangel wordlessly.

* * *

Sam and Gabriel helped themselves to the liquor in Bobby's refrigerator. Sam absently thanked his stars that Rufus had requested Bobby's assistance and called him away. He wasn't sure if Bobby would be too receptive towards Gabriel despite him having saved their lives.

"Alright, Gabriel. Explain." Sam crossed his arms in front of his chest and awaited the explanation.

Gabriel sighed and then proceeded to zap a bar of chocolate into existence.

"Understand that this does not change anything. I still think that you and your brother are the biggest idiots in the world for even _thinking_ that you can stop the apocalypse. Castiel may have faith in you. I don't. And I'd much rather get this whole mess over with. But don't worry; I'm not going to force you to say _yes._ At least, not yet."

"Why?" Sam asked before he could stop himself.

"Because for some incomprehensible reason, my little brother is emotionally vested in you and I don't wish to pain him by delivering the two of you to Michael and Lucifer like I want to." Gabriel concluded with a dramatic eye-roll.

Sam couldn't help but resent these words. It had apparently been a stretch to think that the archangel would consent to being their ally. He was only here for Castiel. Speaking of Cass…

"What about Cass? Will he be alright? And why hasn't he woken up yet?"

Gabriel sighed again and the look of defeat and dare he say it; vulnerability; graced his features again.

"The demons that had trapped him…they injected holy oil in his veins. You have no idea…you can't imagine the agony that it inflicts on an angel. It's worse than acid eating away at your body from the inside. The anguish it can cause an angel is indescribable."

"But will he recover? Is there anything we can do?" Gabriel's words circled Sam's mind hauntingly. Oh God…Sam was astounded as he tried to come to terms with what Cass had suffered for them.

"He'll be fine. But it will take a little time before my grace can completely purge his body."

Sam sighed in relief. As the adrenaline drained from his system, an unexpected wave of fatigue overcame his body and he battled his eyes to stay awake. The excessive information had succeeded in causing a sensory overload. So much had happened in the past few days. There was so much he still didn't know.

In hopeless times like these, Sam often turned to his brother for assurance. Even a simple verbal exchange of taunts and disguised insults that conveyed hidden affection or mindless bickering magically transformed his dreary soul into a lively and hopeful spirit. A genuine laugh or smile from his brother had always symbolised safety and home and never failed to lighten his heart. _He hadn't heard his brother laugh in a long time._

His thoughts brought another question to his attention that he had carelessly forgotten in the maelstrom of information.

"What about Dean? And what did you mean about a mental barricade?" Sam asked with growing unease. Gabriel stared at him for a long minute before he began his explanation. As he spoke, his eyes reflected an emotion that was almost akin to pity.

"Look, kiddo. I'll be honest with you. Hell did quite a number on him and he hasn't had time to heal yet. He probably never will. I almost pity the fool for what he has suffered. Though Castiel healed the physical wounds on his body, his soul is still broken. He's no longer the man he once was. No one comes back from hell without the scars to show for it." Gabriel paused then, as if debating whether to continue or not.

"What do you mean, Gabriel?" Sam whispered out the words fearfully, scared of what the answer would be.

"Dean's mind is, at best, fragile. It further crumbled in Alistair's captivity. When I came to save you, Dean was almost lost in his own mind. I had no choice then but to do what I did. I constructed a temporary barrier in his mind to block out the memories of his most recent torture and hence, his amnesia. Unfortunately, the human mind is not capable of repressing such destructive memories for long and my barrier broke down. That is the reason for Dean's breakdown."

Tears slipped down Sam's cheeks but went unnoticed. Sam struggled to hold on to some constant, some reason, some sense; but he was lost to the sea of emotions that threatened to drown him.

"Can't anything be done?" Sam asked, his voice frightfully similar to a child coming to terms with the evil in the world.

"There is no magic on earth or in heaven that can cure his soul, Sam. This is something he will have to fight on his own. I'm sorry, but I can't help you anymore."

That said, the archangel quietly took his leave and disappeared in a flutter of wings. And for the second time in the past few days, Sam broke down and cried.

* * *

Dean woke up to the gentle snores of his little brother who was currently asleep on the chair beside his bed. He decided against moving from his horizontal position for fear of waking Sam up.

A wisp of a memory danced at the peripheral edge of his mind and he attempted to grasp it before it disappeared from his subconscience into the unknown. Gradually, he remembered enduring a particularly savage nightmare and then waking up with a severe headache. He vaguely recalled falling to his knees in agony. A piercing scream echoed through his memory.

He put two and two together and figured that Sam had helped him through the incident and put him to bed. But this begged the question-"What the hell happened?"

Slowly, obscure memories trickled into his mind. Alistair's capture..…the torture….the pain….oh God… He remembered. He remembered everything. His breaths turned to breathless gasps. He fought in vain to force air into his lungs. His heart thumped maniacally and his erratic breathing gave way to hyperventilation.

Dean realized at the back of his mind that he was having a panic attack but refused to acknowledge it. Instead, he focused on regaining control of his disobeying body. Shifting his attention to Sam, he made an effort to synchronize his breathing with his brother's even snores. He finally succeeded after a few tries and then resolved to get his bearings.

Dean knew what he had to do. He had lived his whole life trusting and relying on his instincts. And his most foremost and primal instinct had always been to _protect Sam_. This situation was no different. Sam had unfortunately seen and heard a lot from Alistair, which was bad enough. He didn't need to know anymore.

He willed himself to create an impenetrable mask, to hide himself from everyone; from the world, from Sam. Dean resolved in that moment that he would protect Sam at all costs; even from himself.

* * *

A shuffling sound registered in Sam's sleepy mind and served to wake him up from his slumber. Opening his eyes, he immediately sat up when he saw Dean trying to rise from the bed.

"What the hell, Dean! You can't get up yet! Lie down!"

"Oh, shut up, Sam. I'm fine." Dean replied in his usual apathetic tone.

"But Dean, you can't…."

"Sam! I'm fine. Stop mothering me."

It was only then that Sam noticed that something was different. Dean's face was calm and emotionless. Too calm. Sam recognised this face well. It was a mask that Dean had perfected a long time ago to protect himself from any form of emotional distress. Dean always used it to keep everyone at arms length so that nobody could see his true feelings and emotions. _It has been forever since he has used that mask to keep __**me**__ out_, Sam realised with a pang.

"Dean…have you…do you….What is the last thing you remember?" Sam asked, unsure if he really wanted an answer. Dean let out a sigh of annoyance but his stoic features did not change.

"Sam, if you're asking whether I remember what happened with Alistair, then yes, I do. Now let it go. I'm fine now. I'm not in a mood to discuss it. And that is _not_ up for debate." Dean cut-off Sam's protests and proceeded to get up again. However, he was stopped by Sam's soft, heart broken voice that had always succeeded in demanding the attention of the big brother inside him.

"Dean, don't do this. Please don't do this." Sam murmured softly.

"Don't do what, Sam?" Dean asked just as softly, unable to stay angry when his brother sounded so broken. _Damn it Sam, why can't you just let it go…_

"Don't hide behind that mask. Don't do that, Dean! Talk to me! Let me help you!" Sam's volume rose with every word. He was obviously on the edge of losing his temper. Strangely, Dean was beyond caring and replied in a voice that was just as loud.

"Because, damn it Sam, you can't help me. No one can. So we're just going to forget that this ever happened and we sure as hell are _not_ going to talk about it." But Sam remained unperturbed at Dean's explosion. If anything, it served to only fuel his desire, his aching need to help his brother.

"DEAN! Pretending that it never happened is not going to make it disappear! You know you have to face it sometime!"

"I don't _have_ to do anything. Why can't you just LET IT GO!"

"Why do you always refuse my help? Why don't you trust me to help you carry your burdens?"

"BECAUSE, DAMNIT SAM! YOU CAN'T HELP ME!"

"IF YOU'D JUST TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED IN HELL…."

"SHUT UP SAM! JUST SHUT UP! DON'T GO THERE…"

"DEAN, YOU CAN'T JUST BOTTLE UP WHATEVER HAPPENED IN HELL, DAMNIT! YOU NEED TO LET IT OUT! JUST TALK TO ME! LET ME HELP!"

"I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT. AND I'M NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT HELL! THAT'S FINAL!"

"DEAN!..."

"LEAVE ME ALONE, SAM! I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!"

With those words, Dean proceeded to walk away, leaving Sam alone in the room.

Both brothers fought against the moisture in their eyes that was threatening to spill over their cheeks. While one brother wept for his excruciating past, the other cried at his inability to help the other through his ordeal. Both souls were drained and distraught in their grief.

Anger,pain,fear, guilt; these emotions coursed through their veins, robbing them of their ability to think and rationalise.

In the end, both brothers were too angry, too hurt, too stubborn to face the other and they both spent the rest of the day drowning in their mental and emotional anguish.

* * *

**AN: I'd love to know what you think of my story so far. Do let me know.**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thank you to all** **those who reviewed my story or added it to their favs and alert lists.** **You make my day!**

**Without further ado, I present before you the 7th chapter of Tryst with Perdition...**

Chapter 7

Sam poured another shot of whiskey in the glass and gulped it down in one go, relishing the burn of alcohol as it made its way down his throat. He winced at the bitter taste that lingered in his mouth and absently rubbed his sleep-ridden eyes. He had been too restless to get much sleep last night and had ended up returning to his research. He had yet to find anything useful to kill Alistair.

He sighed as he replayed yesterday's conversation with Dean in his mind. They had yet to say a word to each other. He knew that they were both being incredibly stubborn and stupid. But damn it Dean was being unreasonable. If only Dean would let him help….

As Sam sat there drowning in his misery and disappointment, a car, which could only be called an antique in its old age, pulled up outside. It didn't take long before the door was thrown open and Bobby entered the living room.

"Tough night?" Bobby asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What gave me away?" Sam replied, not bothering to look up from his glass.

"Well, I don't know. Maybe the fact that you are trying to drink yourself into oblivion at noon? What's the matter kid?"

Reluctantly, Sam explained everything that had happened the previous day. Bobby could clearly see that the boys had had another spat and as usual, being the most mature member of Team Free Will, set out to rectify it.

"Sam, you know that your brother is too hard-headed for his own good. The two of you need to stop fighting like a married couple and do something worthwhile. Now go and talk to him." Bobby ordered and Sam wisely chose to obey.

Depositing his glass on the table, Sam walked out to the garage where his brother was working away at his impala.

* * *

Dean had spent the better half of the night and most of the morning in the garage, tuning up and generally fussing about his impala's nuts and bolts. It was no surprise that Dean had returned to his beloved car in search for solace. It was not just a vehicle to him; it was his home, his safe-house. It provided him comfort and acceptance.

Afterall, the impala had been the one constant in his life ever since he could remember. He recalled memories from another time when he was still a kid; riding in the back seat of the impala with Sammy and Dad at the wheel, singing along classic rock with his father or sharing humorous jokes and whispered secrets with Sammy.

The impala was a storehouse of precious memories that he cherished and reminisced at all times; good or bad. Not many could comprehend the level of commitment that Dean harbored towards his car. Yet, the car had played an extremely important role in is life.

The 67 Chevy Impala was a treasured companion of its owner and was held in high regard. The car, though being an inanimate object, had stood by Dean through all the rough and lonely fractions of his life. It was the single possession of a man who had lost everything. And indeed, he had lost so much: a mother, a chance to have a normal life, his friends and fellow hunters; even his father had left him alone to hunt Azazel and so had Sammy when he left for college.

And Dean was tired of being left behind. The impala was the only thing that had stayed with him in his lonely life. 'Pathetic' he thought to himself. But Sammy was with him now. He didn't have to be alone anymore.

Subconsciously, Dean was aware that his most recent confrontation with Sam stemmed from a phobia he had successfully kept hidden throughout his life. _The fear of being alone_. It was this overbearing fear that had motivated him to look after Sammy since they were kids; that had driven him to make that depraved crossroads deal. The fear of being left all alone in the world; of having no one to love and be loved compelled him to sacrifice himself for his loved ones over and over again.

Now this overwhelming fear had become the primary reason for keeping his memories of hell from Sam. Sam couldn't know about hell, couldn't know about all the atrocious crimes his big brother had committed in hell. Sam's opinion about Dean, his love and respect for his elder brother was the only thing that mattered to Dean. That look of absolute trust and devotion that still glimmered in Sam's eyes when he gazed at him, even when hunting had degraded every virtue that Sam had believed in and had robbed his world of all colours leaving his world bleak and tainted, was the single most important reason for his existence. His little brother was his world, afterall.

With these thoughts in mind, Dean resolved to keep his hell to himself and never reveal the truth to Sammy. Sam couldn't know. If Sam found out his darkest secret, it would destroy him. Nothing could convince him to reveal the truth to Sam. Nothing.

* * *

Sam reluctantly walked out to the backyard where Dean was working on his impala. He grudgingly put one foot in front of the other, not looking forward to the upcoming conversation. While it was true that he was a firm believer of the philosophy of talking things out and solving problems rather than burying the problem and ignoring it, in this instance, he had no idea what to say.

He knew that Dean was too stubborn to give in easily, but then, Sam could be stubborn too. It was a Winchester trait passed down through the generations. But would it be enough? His musings were cut short as he finally reached his brother.

"Hey." It was all Sam could think of to say.

"Hey." Dean replied in the like, apparently not knowing what to say either.

Sam knew that he had to be careful of what to say to his brother. There were issues that Dean was too sensitive about to be able to address them freely. So he decided to begin by expressing the most dominant emotion trickling through his veins. Guilt.

"I…I'm sorry…about earlier…" Sam finally said, unable to look his brother in the eyes.

"Yeah…me too." Dean replied. An awkward silence ensued.

"Look Sam…I know that you're just trying to help…but I…I won't talk about hell. I can't."

Sam remained silent for a few moments. Though he did not agree with Dean, he knew better than to push his brother to talk.

"Dean…are you alright?" With so much going on in their lives, Sam decided to prioritise his queries. The unexpected question, however, caught Dean off guard. _What? _Really, the kid was the only one who had the ability and the incomprehensibly twisted Winchester logic to render even Dean Winchester speechless.

"I'm fine, Sam. I…I'm fine." Dean replied after a moment.

"Right…so…"

"What Sam?"

"Well…we know that Alistair is still after you and…we..we need to kill him Dean…before…"

Dean sighed, an irrational burst of fear exploding in his body.

"I don't know Sam. Bobby says that a simple exorcism won't work. Ruby's knife might work if we can get close enough to Alistair to actually use it…"

"Ruby's knife won't work." Sam quickly refuted. "Ruby made the demon-killing knife herself. But Alistair is much higher on the hierarchical order of hell than her. Ruby's knife isn't strong enough to take down someone of Alistair's caliber."

"Okay…and you know this how?" Dean challenged.

"Um...Well…she told me herself." Sam stammered, mentally cursing at himself for allowing his mouth to run away on its own.

"Sam, what are you not telling me?" Dean asked. Though he had a suspicion that he knew what Sam had done, he still hoped that Sam had more sense than that.

"Dean..I...just calm down and listen to me okay…I had been searching for days but I couldn't find anything on how to kill Alistair. I had no choice. So I asked Ruby for help…"

"Damn it, Sam! Are you crazy?"

"What was I supposed to do, Dean? I couldn't just let you die…"

"Damnit Sam, She's a demon."

"And probably the only thing that could help us to kill Alistair."

"She can't be trusted, Sam. Hell, she would probably betray us and maybe even deliver us to Alistair herself. How could you be so stupid, Sam."

Despite having yelled at his brother before, Dean's voice sounded almost defeated now. Like he was just giving up. And Dean Winchester was not prone to giving up. It was this fact that urged Sam to calm down and offer some shred of comfort and assurance to his brother. Because there was just no way that he would let his brother give up. He spoke in a gentle voice.

"Dean, we'll figure it out. We always do. But right now, if we want to kill Alistair, we need her help. I'm not ready to let that demon take you, Dean. Not now, after I finally have you back."

"Sam…"

Just then Bobby's shout floated out to the two somewhat reconciled brothers.

"DEAN! SAM! GET IN HERE! NOW!"

* * *

Bobby was known in the hunting community to be a tough hunter hardened by life and circumstances. He was revered and respected. Bobby had been proud of the rigid and immovable image that he knew he projected when he was in the company of hunters or people in general. Trust the Winchesters to crush that image to dust.

Bobby shook his head to rid himself of the moment of weakness that had inspired him to push the boys to resolve their problems. He was a hunter. Not a match-maker, damnit! But those Winchester boys had always occupied his weak spot.

While Sam was out talking to Dean, Bobby's mind strayed to the still unconscious angel in his panic room. He felt a strange feeling churning in his gut and with a start he realised that the feeling was 'worry'. He was worried about Cass.

As if worrying about Sam and Dean wasn't enough, he had now begun to care about the angel too. Great. Since when did he turn into such a girl?

While Bobby was unhappily contemplating his hidden feminine side, he failed to notice the source of his worry sneaking up behind him.

"Bobby."

The hunter whirled around towards the voice and came face to face with Cass himself.

"Castiel! You're awake!" Bobby couldn't help but yell out, losing his seemingly uncaring facade for a moment before recovering his composure.

"Yes. It would seem that I have regained my consciousness. But I find myself confused. Perhaps you could enlighten me as to the cause of my current condition?" Cass asked, his tone bearing a little bit of fatigue and vulnerability that was usually absent from his inflection.

However, these words had barely escaped out of Cass's mouth before the aforementioned angel collapsed forward into the waiting arms of Bobby.

"Cass! CASS!" Bobby shook the disoriented angel a little harder than was prudent or required.

"I seem to be lacking a significant fraction of my strength and grace." Castiel explained as though apologizing for his weak state.

'Just sit down and rest." Bobby told the angel and then proceeded to summon the brothers.

"DEAN! SAM! GET IN HERE! NOW!"

* * *

The Winchesters along with Bobby gathered in Bobby's kitchen with varying degrees of worry painted on their faces. Castiel, still in his weakened state, was draped on the sofa while the hunters sat around the angel. All was silent for a few moments. No one quite knew how to begin. Finally, impatience got the better of Dean and he decided to break the tense silence.

"So Cass. How did you get captured?"

Castiel frowned and then answered the question. "Holy oil. The demons used holy oil to incapacitate me." Everyone fell silent. The prospect of the demons possessing something that was akin to poison to the mighty angels was a frightening one to consider. This time the silence was broken by Castiel.

"But I fail to understand how demons succeeded in acquiring holy oil. They will undoubtedly use it as a weapon against angels."

Sam hesitantly answered Cass. "Um…Cass…well….we know who captured you. It…It was..Alistair."

"A high level demon like him could get his hands on it, I guess." Dean added, his face an impenetrable mask displaying a false sense of calm.

Castiel was stunned for a few moments. "I suppose that explains it. The demons that held me captive injected holy oil in my veins. They hoped to gain your location from me. Of coarse, they did not succeed." Cass assured them quickly.

"But I still do not understand how I was rescued; or how I feel considerably better now despite holy oil being infused in my veins." Castiel asked, his confusion visible in his features. No one answered fearing Cass's reaction. When everyone remained silent, Sam decided to help the perplexed angel.

"Well…we had help. He rescued me and Dean from Alistair too…"

"Who was it?"

"It…it was Gabriel."

* * *

Gabriel. Castiel flinched at the name. Gabriel…his brother…who abandoned him…Gabriel…no…it was not possible…Gabriel…

"There must be a mistake." Cass said. "Gabriel left heaven. He left me. It couldn't have been him."

Involuntary images swirled in his mind; memories from another time when he was but a fledgling, encased in his elder brother's wings as he was lulled to sleep….his first flight lesson with Gabriel as his teacher….. Hours upon hours of playtime in heaven….then waking up one day to find Gabriel missing…gone…

Castiel let out a choked sob as his emotions got the better of him. Unable to think with his feelings overriding cognitive reasoning and the pain of betrayal renewed in his heart, Castiel stretched his wings and took flight.

* * *

**AN: I'd love to know what you think. Review and let me know!**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Sorry for the long wait. Life got in the way. So without wasting any time, I present before you Chapter 8 of Tryst with Perdition...**

Chapter 8

_An agonizing scream tore through his throat as his entire body succumbed to excruciating pain. His voice was hoarse from continuous screaming, his breathing reduced to breathless gasps. His arms and legs were bound tightly in inescapable snares that affixed him to the torture rack. Waves of fear and dread engulfed him as he relived his worst nightmares._

_"Dean, you know that resisting me is futile. Come now, open your eyes and let me see those emerald jewels , my boy!" A deceptively sweet voice whispered in his ears. _

_He resolutely kept his eyes shut. He didn't dare open them to witness the carnage that was his body, to see the everlasting fires and eternal bloodbath of hell. The anguished screams of thousands of tortured souls echoed in the background._

_"But this can't be right….I got out…I was saved by Castiel…I was back with Sam…I got out…" He thought to himself, even as doubt and uncertainty trickled in his mind. He got out of hell…right?_

_"Oh, Dean! Dean! Dean!" Alistair cackled maniacally. "You poor, poor boy! You still hope for freedom! Don't you know? You can never escape me! You are mine! For the rest of eternity!"_

_A flash of blinding pain erupted in his body as Alistair plunged a knife deep into his abdomen and then twisted it viciously. Another scream escape from his mouth before trailing off in whimpers._

_"You escaped hell because I wanted you to, Dean. I wanted you to have a taste of freedom before I yanked you back again. I wanted you to think that you were safe and sound with Sam again before I separated you from your brother again." Alistair said, thrusting the knife delicately under the skin again._

_"No, no, no. You're lying." He whimpered._

_"Oh, but I'm not! It was an ingenious torture, don't you agree? But the game has gone on long enough and now I want you back. And I will have you, boy!" He clenched his eyes shut tightly, hoping… praying that the words spoken to him were untrue. But he lost all train of thought as pain dominated him again._

_"You're mine, Dean. And no matter what you do, my boy, I __**will**__ have you back."_

* * *

Dean woke up drenched in sweat and trembling in fright. The residual memories of hell hovered over his mind in a haze that left him confused and disoriented. His befuddled brain registered strong restraints encompassing his wrists and he instinctively fought against them.

"Dean! DEAN! Calm down! It's me, Sam! It's just me! Please Dean! Calm down!"

He slowly realised that the restraints binding him were actually his brother's arms, encircling him in their safety. Even so, his body vibrated with nervous energy as adrenaline coursed through his blood.

"Dean! Hey...hey…calm down…okay…I'm here…I'm here…you're safe…you're alright…hey…Dean…you're safe…"

He allowed the feelings of relief and safety to engulf him. Sam's voice lulled him into a lullaby of familiarity and comfort and soothed his taut nerves. He finally gathered the courage to open his eyes.

"Sam…Sammy…is that you?"

"Yeah…yeah…Dean…I'm here…I gotcha…"

Suddenly, his body slumped with overwhelming relief and his eyes brimmed with moisture. Sam was here…he was safe…he wasn't in hell anymore…he escaped…he was safe…

For the first time since his return from perdition, Dean surrendered under the weight of his sufferings from hell. All thoughts of composure and denial were revoked from his mind. For the first time in several years, Dean relinquished the persona of the invincible big brother. For the first time in his life, Dean broke down, sheltered in his brother's arms, and cried.

* * *

Sam had finally given up the fight to keep his eyes open and laid down on his bed gratefully. Exhausted from renouncing sleep the previous night and the emotional turmoil that was a constant in his life, his weary body sank into the mattress and succumbed to the much needed rest.

His drowsy mind was, however, yanked from the alluring garden of blissful unconsciousness by a scream that was as terrifying as it was terrified. DEAN…!

Sam hastily abandoned the invitingly warm bed and sprinted towards the living room where Dean had fallen asleep earlier. He ran down the stairs and burst into the room, his eyes impulsively scanning the room for potential threats. Instead, he found his brother thrashing wildly, trapped in the throes of a frightening nightmare.

His breathing hitched unevenly and his eyes stung with moisture at the uncharacteristically vulnerable state of his elder brother. His heart went out to his sibling and ached with the need to help…to do something…anything.

All Sam could do was wrap his arms securely around Dean and offer some comfort through nonsensical words and sounds. Dean fought against his grip for a while but Sam refused to let him go. No, he wouldn't let Dean go…not again.

"Hey…hey…I gotcha Dean…I gotcha…" Sam mumbled, as tears escaped his eyes and trailed down his cheeks at his brother's misery.

But the greatest shock came when his cocky, confident brother who was usually adorned by a devil-may-care smirk actually broke down and cried! Cried! _What kind of nightmare was it that reduced his brother to tears?_

For a moment, Sam was stumped. This was a rare and exclusive situation afterall. He had never witnessed his brother admit any form of weakness or helplessness. Logically, he had realised at some point in his life that his brother was only human; an exceptional individual, but a human entity nonetheless. Growing up and being introduced to the hardships of life had faded much of the shine from the dazzling image of his brother that his mind had created. The harsh realities of life had depreciated his brother from superhero to just human. But this realization had only strengthened his faith in his brother. Because Dean was no longer a superhuman but a human who performed superhuman feats. Who saved him…protected him. Dean may be human, but he would always be his hero.

That being said, Sam was not only willing but also eager to help his brother. Afterall, even extraordinary humans needed a break sometimes. And after everything Dean suffered in hell; suffered for him; he deserved to have the opportunity to unwind and unravel without fear of ridicule or censure. And Sam was not only willing but also eager to help him along the way.

* * *

In the unforgiving darkness of the cold autumn night, the two brothers lay in the comforting arms of one another, reveling in the security and acceptance of each others touch, peaceful and at home in the loving embrace of family. As the cruel world ravaged against them time and time again and threatened them with separation and destruction, they both offered and received assurance and solace and shared the pure contentment that only family can provide.

But as the two brothers rekindled the blazing flame of their brotherly bond, another pair of brothers mourned their own shattered bond that had been shredded due to abandonment, betrayal, hurt and distrust and, despite their grievances, struggled to find their way back to each other.

* * *

Castiel sat on a high, bone-white cliff overlooking the mighty expanse of ocean. The water appeared ink-black in color, mirroring the dark night sky. Lightening crashed overhead in the sky and reflected eerily on the raging waters. Giant waves crashed against the high walls of his seat and licked at his dangling legs.

Castiel absently acknowledged that the storming ocean and the depressing weather replicated his own emotions broiling inside of him. Another colossal wave crashed against the jagged rocks and drenched him with painfully cold water. He barely registered the freezing sea-water cloaking his body. He had far more important things to worry about.

Gabriel…Gabriel was alive…Well, he had always suspected that his elder brother was still alive and in hiding but…Gabriel was back…he came back…why?…why now?...after all this time…after he had abandoned him…

The unanswered questions swirled inside him along with the overflowing emotions. Anger…betrayal…rage…hurt…sorrow…grief…misery…loneliness…Tears welled up in his mind again and he allowed them to spill forth, now that there was no one who could witness his moment of weakness.

He recalled, with perfect clarity, his time as a fledgling. When he was just an infant by human standards and still under the charge of the archangel Gabriel. The golden memories swimmed in front of his closed eyelids and he immersed himself in a much happier time.

_"Castiel?_ _Cassie, where are you?" Castiel heard an anxious Gabriel flying between the trees of the heavenly forest and searching for him but he made no move to make himself known. He buried himself deeper into the shrubbery when he felt his care-taker land in front of him._

_"Oh! Cassie, what are you doing here, kiddo? Are you crying?" Gabriel knelt down beside him and ran an affectionate hand over his head._

_"N…No…I..I'm..N..no..not…" But his hoarse voice and damp cheeks gave the lie away._

_"Come now, kiddo. You can tell me what's wrong." Gabriel gently urged._

_"I got l..left behind..again. I…I can't..can't fly fast enough…to catch up…I…I always get…left behind."_

_"Oh Cassie…you're still young…I'm sure you'll fly even faster than your friends when you grow up. But until then, you've still got me to wait for you."_

_"You'll wait for me?"_

_"Always, kiddo! I promise!"_

* * *

_"Come on, kiddo! We need to fly faster!"_

_"Gabriel! Why are we hurrying?" A young Castiel asked, trying to keep up._

_"Because I messed up Raphael's nest and redecorated it in pink and now she's angry!" Gabriel replied with a grin._

_"Gabriel, why would you do that?" Castiel asked, wincing as lightening lit up the sky. Raphael was furious._

_"Because kiddo, it's fun to see Raphael get mad!"_

_"GABRIEL!"_

_"Fly, Cassie, fly! Before she catches up."_

_"Gabriel, you're going to get me in trouble. Again!" Castiel yelled._

_"Come on, Cassie, you know you love me!"_

_"Don't leave me behind Gabriel!" Castiel begged, fearful at the thought of facing Raphael alone._

_"Never, kiddo. I'll never leave you behind."_

* * *

_"Gabriel? Gabriel, where are you?"_

_Castiel tore through heaven in search of the archangel. _

_"Gabriel? ….Gabriel?" He called out desperately. Something was wrong…very wrong._

_"I'm sorry, Castiel. Gabriel is gone."_

_"Gone? Gone where?" Castiel asked hopefully._

_"Gabriel left heaven, Castiel. He's gone. And he's not coming back."_

_"Gabriel…left...?" Castiel whimpered as tears slid down his face and his wings sank in grief._

_"Gabriel…left…me…?_

* * *

Castiel sat silently on his perch, submerged in his memories, and remained silent even as his grace recognized the intruder that had interrupted his flashbacks. Though his body remained immobile_, _he could feel his grace, his very core, quiver in agitation and restlessness. Ghosts of broken promises and heartless lies haunted his mind.

"Cassie…?" Gabriel began in an unusually timid voice.

Castiel couldn't help but flinch at the nickname that hadn't been used to address him in a long, long time.

"Castiel?...Hey, kiddo…it's…it's been a while…" Gabriel said, his voice still resonating with deceptive gentleness and warmth that had always soothed away Castiel's fears and worries. But it failed to do so now. This time Castiel refused to be placated.

"Castiel…I know that what I did was wrong but if you would just listen…"

"You left me, Gabriel! You abandoned me! You…you broke your promise…" His voice was thick and rough and he trailed off before he could dissolve in tears.

"I know kiddo…I know I hurt you…and I have no right to ask for forgiveness…but…"

"Why did you come back, Gabriel? Why now, after you were gone for so long?" It was becoming harder and harder to maintain his composure. Castiel could only hope that he wouldn't give in to his tears in front of his brother.

"Believe it or not, but I _have_ been looking out for you ever since you were assigned to earth. When I saw that you were in trouble, I had to do something…"

"Why? Why even bother? Since when do _you_ care about _my_ _well-being, _brother?" Gabriel winced as Castiel almost sneered at the word 'brother'; yet another reminder of his failure.

"Castiel! Of course I care! I know that I haven't been your big brother in a while but you're still my little brother!"

"Really?" Castiel couldn't help but question, disbelief saturating his voice. Though he had yet to turn around, he could sense that Gabriel was losing his temper.

"Don't you dare doubt that I care for you, kiddo! You can yell at me, punch me or hurt me. You can even refuse to forgive me. But never, _never_ doubt my love for you!"

Castiel paused at Gabriel's declaration. It sounded so sincere…yet…could it be true…? He began in a soft, almost tired voice. "Then why did you leave, Gabriel? Why?"

"Would you listen, kiddo? I'm afraid all I can give you is a well-meaning excuse. I've realised that I _have_ no explanation, that there _can_ be _no_ explanation for my mistakes; only excuses."

Gabriel moved to sit down beside Castiel after receiving a somber nod and continued.

"After Lucifer's fall, everything changed. Despite Michael and Lucifer's disputes, I'd never thought that things would escalate so much. I'd never imagined…..…But then Father decreed that Michael was to banish Lucifer to hell. I was heartbroken. Despite his flaws, Lucifer and Michael were still my elder brothers. I couldn't bear to watch them tear our family apart. So I went to Lucifer. I tried to talk some sense into him. I tried to reason with him. He didn't listen. And the next day, he was cast into the cage." Gabriel paused to take a deep breath and exhaled with a sigh.

"After that day, Michael was well and truly broken. Him and Lucifer had been close, you know. There was a time when they loved each other. Michael took Lucifer's exile the hardest. And then Father disappeared. We were all devastated. I had only half made up my mind to leave. I was debating whether I should take you with me too. You were so young; I didn't want to leave you behind in a heaven that had become so broken. But I didn't want to leave our home either. I remained undecided. " Castiel looked up at Gabriel in surprise but the elder did not meet his eyes.

"Michael changed after Lucifer's fall. He became cold and emotionless; the embodiment of the perfect soldier. He found out that…that I had tried to reason with Lucifer the day before the fall. He was convinced that…that I had tried to disobey Father's orders. He was furious. We had a huge fight that day. I couldn't stand my own brother turning against me, doubting me. So…so I left heaven. I left you. I thought that I was protecting you. I thought that you would be safer in heaven now that Michael thought that I…."

"Please believe me, Cassie. My only regret has been leaving you. I know that doesn't redeem me for my cowardice, for abandoning you and never coming to find you, but I…I hope…that…someday …you could…forgive me…"

With those words Gabriel surrendered to the onslaught of tears and emotions that he had kept locked up for so many millennia. Castiel, now much more appeased and satisfied than he had ever expected to be, wrapped his arms and his wings around the wreaked frame of his estranged brother and allowed his own tears to slip by. The two reunited brothers forged the strings of their bond anew and instigated the healing and mending of ancient wounds that were finally beginning to be restored to health again.

* * *

**AN: Lots of brotherly love and emotional drama this time. Hope you enjoyed. Review and let me know!**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: To anyone who is still reading this story, I am so, so sorry for the long wait. Lets just say life got in the way. I won't make any more excuses.**

**A word of warning, this chapter leans more towards dark and morbid. You've been warned.**

**Now, lets get started...**

Chapter 9

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!"

"DAMN IT….!"

"WHAT THE HELL...!"

The quiet living room of Bobby's modest home erupted in a flood of crashes, yells and explosions. The occupants lunged at their weapons, still in shock from the sudden barrage of sounds that had startled them, and wildly looked around for the threat. The scene would almost be comical if they were not anticipating an oncoming attack. But someone apparently appreciated the humor of the situation and burst out laughing. The hunters turned towards the source of the laughter to locate the culprit.

"GABRIEL!"

The addressed archangel chuckled in amusement. "Oh, you should have seen your faces! Absolutely priceless. Playing tricks on you unsuspecting humans never gets old!"

"You've got to be kidding me." Dean groaned, slumping back in the chair now that they had identified their mystery attacker.

"Well duh! Trickster by trade!" Gabriel replied, eyes still shining with amusement.

Sam and Bobby recovered from the recent fright and put away their guns as well.

"I apologise for my brother's childishness. I tried to dissuade him from alarming you but my efforts were in vain." Castiel replied, having appeared in the room at the same time as Gabriel but went unnoticed for obvious reasons.

"You're no fun, Cassie." Gabriel pouted good-naturedly. "So, what trouble are you chuckle-heads brewing in this time?"

"You know, the apocalypse, Lucifer bringing about the end of the world, the usual." Sam replied nonchalantly.

Something flickered in Gabriel's eyes, an emotion that was cloaked too quickly for Sam to be able to identify it.

"What are _you_ doing here, anyway?" Dean demanded, not willing to trust the flighty ex-archangel's motives without a good reason.

"Well, Cassie here, convinced me to become a member of Team Free Will so I thought I'd drop by to get my membership card." The Winchester's scrutinised Gabriel's expressions, wondering if he was being sincere, but Gabriel retained his ever-present carefree grin. Dean bristled at the angel's declaration and proceeded to voice his opinion.

"Right…You expect us to believe that you suddenly changed your mind; that you don't want the apocalypse anymore and you'll help us stop Lucifer?" Dean drawled out, sarcasm and disbelief evident in his tone.

"Okay, first of all, I never _wanted_ the apocalypse. I just wanted Mikey and Luci to get it over with so the fighting would stop. And second of all, I still think you're all a bunch of idiots, little brother included, to still think that you can stop the Devil. But since the world is literally going to hell, and you two refuse to play your designated parts, I might as well help."

Castiel chose this moment to interrupt. "You're wrong, Gabriel. I refuse to give up hope yet. I still believe that we can defeat Lucifer if we work together."

"Well aren't you a bouquet of sunshine and optimism, little bro." Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Why don't you try to stop the Earth from spinning on its axis while you're at it?"

Predictably, Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "How does the rotation of the Earth relate to our quest of defeating Lucifer?" Gabriel just shook his head in mock grief.

"I worry about you, little bro."

"Do you really think that we are going to accept you with open arms after everything you've done to me and Sam; hell, after everything you've done to Cas?" Dean's voice was just a few notches below 'shouting at the top of his lungs' and was dangerously edging closer and closer to a full-volume blow-out. Gabriel's expression visibly darkened at those words.

Sam decided to interfere before his brother carelessly blew the fuse to Gabriel's wrath. After all, goading an archangel, no matter how justified, was hardly beneficial for his brother's health.

" If you don't think that we have any chance of succeeding, then why are you helping us at all, Gabriel?" Sam asked, curiously. He intuitively knew that the archangel had some unfathomable reason for agreeing to help them. Gabriel had made no secret of his reluctance to join in the fight, afterall. _'Then why is he suddenly so eager to help us?'_

"Oh, I just thought that since Luci is going to destroy the world and everything in it anyway, I might as well spend my last days being entertained by my favorite pair of dim-wits." Gabriel replied with a wide grin. Sam made an effort to conceal his annoyance.

"Be serious, Gabriel."

"Dude, I don't think that's even possible." Dean muttered with an eye-roll.

"Anyway, so what's the plan to kill the big, bad wolf?" Gabriel asked, ignoring Dean.

"What makes you think we're going to tell you our plan?" Dean asked, his eyes narrowed in anger and distrust.

"So you don't even have a plan? Wonderful. Sure you'll stop the apocalypse. You're even bigger idiots than I thought!" Gabriel declared. A hint of frustration trickled in his voice. _'The fate of the entire world rests on these humans? No wonder the earth is doomed.' _

Bobby decided that there had been enough childish arguments for the day and that someone had to be the voice of reason. Out loud he said, "Well, it's not exactly easy to stop the devil. If your feather-brain has some good ideas, I'm all ears."

"BOBBY!" The Winchesters yelled in surprise.

"Look, we ain't getting much far in stopping the devil ourselves. An archangel on our side would certainly help."

"But he can't be trusted!" Dean stuttered in disbelief. This time Castiel answered him.

"Dean, I understand that you are suspicious of Gabriel's motives. But he has given me his word that he will fight by our side. I realise that this is difficult for you; but I ask that you trust me. I will take full responsibility for my brother's actions."

And so Gabriel was admitted; although somewhat grudgingly; to become a member of Team Free Will.

* * *

_Dean came to with a short gasp and then opened his eyes to try to locate where he was. Nothing. Dark. Pitch Black…. ' I can't see….' Panic started to settle deep inside his gut. He couldn't see anything…..…_

_It took him a moment to realise that there was nothing wrong with his eyes. The room was completely dark. There was nothing to see._

_He took a deep breath to calm himself. His body was tense, ready to spring at the slightest hint of danger. His ears twitched, straining to hear the softest sounds in the eerie silence. His eyes prickled at the loss of vision._

_ His hands moved to the back of his waist but came up empty. He was weaponless._

_Tentatively, he took a small step forward. Clenching his hands into tight fists, he called out. "Anyone there?...Hey..." No answer. Not even the whisper of the wind._

_Absently, he wondered; He couldn't be here alone, where ever he was. Atleast Sam must have been with him._

_"Sam…...?"_

_"Dean." _

_His brother's soft voice floated towards him. His heart clenched at the fear in his brother's voice. It was the voice Sam had used as a child, begging Dean to chase away his nightmares; when Dean was still the strongest person in the world to his little brother._

_ He looked around frantically, trying to reach Sam. His instincts screamed at him to find Sammy and envelope him in the safety of his arms; protect him from danger._

_"Sammy…where are you?"_

_"Dean!"_

_Suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch, the lights came on in a burst of power and illuminated the room. He flinched and shielded his eyes against the bright glow. Blinking furiously, he forced his eyes open. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust._

_The vision that greeted him knocked the wind out of his lungs and forced his knees to turn to water. His heart skipped a beat; his breath escaping from his lips in a cry of abject horror._

_"SAM!"_

_There he was; the sole recipient of all his love and affection. His little brother, whom he had sworn to watch over and protect for as long as his heart continued to little brother, who was currently tied and restrained on a cold, steel table. His little brother, who was staring at him through terrified, watery eyes; beseeching him to save him._

_Dean willed his frozen legs to move but they remained unresponsive. He wanted to move; to help Sam. But his body refused to budge._

_"Dean…" Sam begged._

_"Sammy…."_

_"Don't do this. Please don't do this…."_

_"What…?"_

_"I'm sorry, Dean. I am. Please don't…."_

_He stared at Sam in dazed confusion. Sam's pleas churned in his head incomprehensibly. 'What's going on?'_

_A new voice sliced through his thoughts and cruelly yanked him back to the situation at hand. The voice was morbidly familiar .Cold, sharp, intimidating and deadly. It wafted through him and chilled him to the bone._

_"Go ahead, Dean."_

_Alistair._

_He shivered involuntarily. Abruptly, his hands closed around the hilt of a long, jagged knife that had materialized out of thin air. Alistair's message became hauntingly clear._

_No…no….nonononononononon….._

_"Do it, Dean." Alistair snapped authoritatively._

_No…He couldn't hurt Sam….he wouldn't….._

_"Do it now, Dean. Or you will suffer the consequences." The demon whispered in his ear._

_"N…n..no…"_

_"No?"_

_"I can't….please….anything but that….anything….." He pleaded._

_"Well, since you insist on disobeying me, you leave me no choice but to deal out your punishment." Alistair declared, with fake regret unsuccessfully masking his obvious glee._

_And just as the notorious demon uttered those words, Dean found himself strapped to a steel table akin to the one his brother occupied. Panic struck him like a bolt of lightening. He thrashed violently, fighting against the bonds that pinned him. Fear….raw, primal fear coursed through his veins and threatened to drown him in it's terrifying intensity._

_"Don't worry, Dean. I'm not going to hurt you yet. But since you so blatantly refuse to do as I say, I will have to do the established task myself." Alistair said, walking purposefully to his younger brother._

_Dean choked in fear at the new turn of events. This was worse, so much worse than his earlier assumptions. The goddamned demon was going to hurt his little brother and there was nothing he could do about it; nothing but beg for clemency. And so he did._

_"No….no…stop…please Alistair….don't….don't hurt him….please…." He pleaded shamelessly. Sammy was in danger. This was no time for his masculine pride. His pleas went unheard._

_Alistair had reached Sam by now. The demon picked up a lethal knife and raised his arm. His heart hammered in his ribcage and then skipped a beat when he heard Sam's voice._

_"No….no…Dean….help me….please….help me….."_

_Tears brimmed in his eyes as his brother begged him for intervention. But his body remained stuck on the wretched table; bound and useless. He had never felt more useless or hated himself more than he did when his brother's pained cry echoed throughout the room._

_"Dean….do something….anything…..please…."_

_"I'm sorry Sammy….I am so, so sorry…"_

_"Argh….." Sam's scream, drenched in agony and distress, tore through him and shredded his insides. Burning moisture trailed down his eyes and saturated his face. He tried, but couldn't look away from the scarlet liquid coating his brother's body. _

_He had failed. He couldn't protect Sammy. This was the worse kind of torture. His brother was being hurt and he was helpless to prevent it._

_"Please….Alistair….don't hurt Sam…please…do what you want with me…please…..let Sam go…" He sobbed out._

_Alistair paused in his ministrations. "Hmm…..how noble. You want to take your brother's place on the rack. And pray why should I listen to your proposition?"_

_"Please. I'm begging you."_

_"You do make a splendid sight, I admit. Dean Winchester, groveling for his brother's life." Alistair cackled humorously and then his icy eyes lit up with an insane glint. "Very well, Dean. I shall grant you your wish."_

_Alistair stalked towards him, his knife covered in Sammy's blood. The demon caressed his cheeks. He flinched at the feel of claws raking at his skin. _

_ He felt the sharp tip of the lethal knife digging into his shoulder. A cry sounded from his lips as the knife was dragged down, creating a crimson line on his chest. He felt the excruciating agony blistering just below his skin. The knife traveled deep into his chest and scratched against his ribs. It was his turn to cry out in pain._

_Time lost all meaning. He had no idea how long it had been since the torture started. It felt like days, weeks, months had passed. The pain was his only constant. Everything else blurred into the background. Eventually, he lost the will to fight. He forgot the reason for his self-inflicted torture. He forgot the little brother he had vowed to protect._

_"Stop…please stop…I'll do anything you want…..anything…..just stop…."_

_Alistair grinned triumphantly. "Well then, let's try this again." He was on his feet again as is restraints vanished. "Take the knife, Dean. Your victim's waiting."_

_As Dean walked up to Sam, the transformation was apparent. Gone was the happy, kindred spirit that had lived and died for his brother. Instead, in his place was a dark, morphed soul that had been irrevocably twisted and broken by hell._

_"Dean….Dean don't….please don't…..don't hurt me….."_

_He didn't reply. His brain did not register his brother's voice. It only knew Alistair and the pain. And Alistair wanted him to cause pain._

_"No…no…Dean….don't hurt me….please don't hurt me…you're my brother…" Sam pleaded._

_He gripped the knife and proceeded to carve his victim._

_Sam howled in pain._

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO…."

Dean jumped out of bed in panic, almost falling out in the process. His racing breathing echoed loudly in his ears, drowning every other sound. After a while, a constant babbling became known to him.

"Dean…calm down….it's okay….it's okay….you're alright…please calm down…."

But Dean was too shaken up to pay his anxious brother any mind. His thoughts and fears circled his mind in a nauseating whirlpool. But despite the convoluted nightmare he had just had, of two things he was absolutely certain. One: His nightmares were not nightmares at all. They were some sort of projections that Alistair had slipped into his head with the objective of breaking his spirit. And Two: The message of his most reason dream-walk was clear; Alistair was not above hurting Sam to get to him.

Dean shivered at this realisation. The cogs of his mind, greased by a possible threat against Sam, worked overtime. He searched for some relief, some solution that would make everything alright. He didn't dare consider the alternative.

His brother's soft voice interrupted his reverie.

"Dean, what's wrong?"

Unable to find his voice again, Dean just shook his head. His thoughts ran a mile a minute, going through every possible scenario, trying to predict Alistair's next move, contemplating his counter-action. One thought remained foremost in his mind; 'protect Sam.'

"Dean, talk to me." Sam ordered, in a gentle but firm voice. The unexpected authority in Sam's voice caused him to snap his head up and look at Sam for the first time since he had woken up.

Sam's worried, concerned face hit him like a ton of bricks. Scenes from his most recent dream clouded his vision and left him staggering. Sam's scared face as he begged Dean to save him, Sam's pained cry as Alistair tortured him, Sam's hurt and disbelieving expression as his own brother took the knife to his body, Sam begging his elder brother for mercy….

Dean clamped his lips against the nausea building inside him and looked away. Oh God, what had he done? He had to get away. He had to get away NOW.

"Dean?"

No, Sam couldn't know. No one could know. He had to get away.

He lurched from his bed and stormed through the door, ignoring Sam's surprised exclamation. He ran down the stairs and grabbed his jacket and his keys from the living room table. Unexpectedly, Gabriel of all people entered the room through the kitchen.

"Where are you going, kiddo?"

Dean burst through the front door, taking no notice of his brother or the archangel, got into the impala, and drove away like there was no tomorrow.

* * *

**AN: if anyone is confused, Dean's dream was Alistair's creation and not the actual reality. So Dean did ****not ****actually make the choice to hurt Sam. Nor does this imply that he ever will. That is just what Alistair wants him to believe.**

**So, if you're not too creeped out by this chapter, do leave me a review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Sorry for the long wait. Here's the next chapter. Enjoy!**

Chapter 10

Sam paced the length of Bobby's living room, his gait anxious and hurried. His thoughts revolved within the confines of his mind, scarcely making any sense.

_'What had happened? Why had Dean scrambled out of the house in a panicked haze? Had he been through another nightmare? What about? Had he dreamed of hell?'_

"Sam, sit down before you wear down my floor, boy." Bobby suggested in a forcefully calm tone.

Sam ignored the older hunter and continued his frantic pacing.

"Sammikins, calm down." Gabriel instructed. "Dean-o will be fine."

"How do you know that, Gabriel? We don't even know where he is. He could be anywhere by now. What if he runs into trouble? What if he needs help?" Sam rambled, his panic increasing by leaps and bounds.

"Sam, listen to me. Your brother may be an idiot, but he is still a hunter. A seasoned and experienced one, at that. I'm sure he'll be alright."

Sam didn't appear to be convinced and resumed his methodical march. Seeing this, Bobby sighed in defeat and spoke to the angel.

"Can't your angel mojo find the boy?" Bobby questioned, raising an eyebrow. Gabriel exhaled in a medley of worry and frustration.

"Unfortunately, no. Baby bro did a damn good job with the sigils he branded on your ribs. They're pretty high-class mumbo-jumbo; designed to side-track even archangels. They obscure you from Lucifer's sight; which means that I can't track you either." Gabriel explained.

"Then what do we do?" Sam entreated, desperate in his concern for his brother.

"Ease up, kiddo." Gabriel insisted. "Try to call him on his cellphone. Get him to reveal his location so I can drag his ass back."

Sam scrambled for his phone and hurriedly hit the speed-dial. All was silent for a moment when the blaring of some rock instrumental emerged from the corner table. 'Dean left his cellphone behind. Damn.'

In a fit of rage, Sam tossed his own phone against the wall where it clattered against the faded wallpaper and tumbled to the ground. He resumed his pacing, a horrifying thought budding in his head.

"What if he runs into Alistair? Or if he gets captured…..what if….."

"Sam, hey, calm down, okay. Breath. We'll find Dean, alright. Just calm down." Gabriel tried to placate the young hunter.

"Calm down? CALM DOWN? Gabriel, my brother is MISSING! With HEAVEN and HELL after him. And you want me to CALM DOWN?" Sam yelled in aggravation.

Bobby decided to interfere before Sam invited a fight he couldn't possibly win.

"Shut up and sit down Sam." The eldest hunter snapped; the worry for Dean's safety beginning to fray his nerves as well. Sam started in undisguised shock and reflexively obeyed.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Gabriel couldn't help but chuckle at the scene. '_Seeing that moose of a Winchester with his mouth hanging open in shock is pretty funny.'_ He thought. He unwillingly admired the respect that Bobby commanded with just a word. _'Anyway, back to the situation at hand…'_

"Hmm….where's baby bro?"

"Um…he's on some abstract mission of finding God, apparently." Sam replied distractively.

"WHAT? HE'S TRYING TO FIND GOD?" Gabriel yelled, causing the two hunters to jump in alarm.

"That's what he said…" Bobby answered.

"Okay, where the hell did he get that crazy idea? You Winchesters are definitely a bad influence on Cassie's intelligence. He seems to have become dumber since he met you. I'm going to have a long talk with Cassie later. " Gabriel ranted, this time more in annoyance than in anger. His variant mood swings left the hunters staring at him in dazed confusion; too bewildered to react to the insult. "Anyhow, we'll need my baby brother to find your big brother."

With a flourish the archangel snapped his fingers and materialised said baby brother. Castiel appeared in the centre of Bobby's living room in all his angelic glory, dazed and confused. Unsurprisingly, the angel composed himself quickly, pulling at the lapels of his worn-out trench coat.

"You summoned me, Gabriel?" Castiel asked evenly, apparently immune to his brother's unpredictable antics. Then his gaze locked onto the youngest Winchester and took in his bedraggled form and panicky eyes.

"Are you quite well, Sam?" the concerned angel asked. But the hunter was too preoccupied to bother with an answer.

"Yeeaaah….your boyfriend's in trouble, Cassie…" Gabriel drawled, grinning when he perceived Sam's startled expression.

"Dean is in trouble?" Castiel asked, a hint of anxiety creeping into his voice and appearing on his face.

"Aha! So you _admit_ that Dean-o is your boyfriend!" Gabriel exclaimed, triumphantly.

"Dean is my friend and he is a boy, yes. You already know that Gabriel." Castiel replied in confusion.

"Oh, my poor Cassie…" Gabriel sighed mournfully, clutching his heart in mock grief.

"I do not understand." The clueless angel declared, tilting his head in confusion like he was trying to solve a complicated mathematical problem.

"CAN WE PLEASE GET TO THE MATTER AT HAND? DEAN'S GONE AND WE HAVE TO FIND HIM!" Sam yelled in frustration. _'Dean, please, please be alright.'_

Gabriel took pity on the distraught hunter."Right, so Cassie, I need your help in finding Dean."

"Ofcourse, Gabriel. But may I ask the reason for Dean's departure?" Castiel asked, noticing Sam flinch at the question. All remained silent.

"How do you intend to find him, Gabriel?" Castiel decided not to press matters for the time being. "The Enochian sigils on their ribs obscure them from our view."

"True, baby brother. But you forget that _I am a genius. _The brand of your handprint on Dean's shoulder contains traces of your grace. Which means that I can track your flighty hunter through you." Gabriel explained, childishly proud of his idea.

"Will it work?" Bobby asked skeptically.

"Only one way to find out. Give me your hands, baby bro!"

The hunters watched in fascination as Gabriel held Cass's hands in his own and closed his eyes, a look of intense concentration flitting across his features. His lips moved silently, forming words in an ancient language that hadn't been heard by human ears in several centuries.

"Gotcha!"

And then Gabriel vanished, leaving behind two worried hunters and an equally worried angel in his wake.

* * *

Dean nursed a glass of whiskey in his hand, unmindful of the cozy bar he had taken refuge in. But the alcohol burning down his throat failed to provide any warmth or comfort like he had hoped. He remained unbearably cold.

Having driven a few towns over in his haste to get away from his brother, he had wished to drown his grievances in some nameless bar. But instead of anesthetizing his emotions, the alcohol seemed to be only inviting more misery and distress.

Dean twirled the glass between his hand, replaying his dream with startling clarity. Alistair's message rang clear. The demon was intent on dragging him back to hell; and this time there would be no bright, holy light to save him.

But that wasn't the real reason for his worry. Another terrifying fear lurked just beneath the surface, too dreadful to be spoken of or be acknowledged. The dream, illusion, whatever it was, had awakened a terrifying suspicion that had prowled the corners of his mind ever since his escapade from hell. A suspicion so disgusting, so revolting that he had refused to even consider it. A suspicion that had been unearthed by his nightmare.

Alistair's unyielding grasp over him. The fearsome power that Alistair possessed that had commanded his submission in the pit. The morbidly awe-inspiring power that had consumed him, defeated him and rendered him defenseless against Alistair's dominion.

The same power that had overwhelmed him that one time when he and Sam had been kidnapped by Alistair. The same power that had incapacitated him in his dream last night. The same power he feared still encompassed him in its unforgiving tendrils.

He wondered yet again if he would ever be free again; in his life or in death. _Is it possible that he still holds this power over me? Can he control me? Can he force me to lose control? Will I become his puppet again?_

These questions were hardly strangers in his mind. They had been knocking at the door of his mind whenever he was too tired to keep his walls up. But this was the first time that he had given in and allowed them to cross the threshold.

But these thoughts also brought with them an uncontainable fear that could not be leashed. The dream replayed itself again and again in his mind as if set on playback and seemed to answer his doubts. A haunting voice, Alistair's voice, echoed eerily; cold and merciless. _'You are mine, Dean. Mine. I can control you. I will control you. You do not have any power or freewill. I can make you do as I say. You are mine.'_

Dean involuntarily shuddered at the horribly familiar voice, trying to block it out. Self-doubt and insecurity, feelings that had been alien to him before hell, were introduced to him for the first time. Alistair had decimated his sense of self-worth.

His train of thought led him to his brother. Guilt and shame infused in his veins and he hung his head. Could he really hurt Sam? Could Alistair really compel him to hurt his own little brother? Would he end up hurting Sammy against his will? Could his fear of Alistair overcome his love for his brother? Was he now a danger to his own family?

"Done with the pity party yet, Dean-o?"

* * *

Gabriel appeared at the door of the inconsequential bar where he had sensed the eldest Winchester, and walked in with purposeful steps. Immediately spotting the brooding hunter huddled in one corner, he walked towards him, fully intent on lecturing the idiot on his irresponsibility. But as he reached closer, the unusually saddened and miserable expression on the hunter's worn face made him pause.

Gabriel studied the hunter with a keen, experienced eye and couldn't help but pity the fool in front of him. The proud, cocky hunter that he had previously witnessed; since he had been keeping an eye on the harbingers of the prophesied apocalypse ever since their birth; was nowhere present in the man before him. His skin was pale and sickly, his eyes embellished by purple, bruise-like circles. His form hung dejectedly on the chair, exhausted and defeated. Dean Winchester was but the shell of the man he used to be.

Nevertheless he spoke with his usual air of levity. "Done with the pity party yet, Dean-o?"

The addressed hunter jumped at the voice, nearly dropping his glass in panic. But he quickly deflated when he caught sight of the archangel.

"What do you want, Gabriel?" Dean sighed, too wound up to summon the energy to be angry.

"You left in quite a hurry, kiddo. Your brother's worried and he wants you back."

"I'm not going back." Dean declared defiantly. "Drag me back if you want."

"Don't think I won't, Dean-o!" Gabriel replied with a grin and Dean cursed the truth of the statement.

"Leave me alone, Gabriel." Dean said, taking a long swig from the glass.

"Can't do that. You do realize that by staying on your own completely unprotected, you are just inviting Alistair to capture you again?"

Dean shuddered involuntarily at the demon's mention which did not go unnoticed by Gabriel.

"I can't come back." Dean answered in a rare moment of vulnerability. If confronted later, Dean decided to blame the alcohol.

"Why not?" Gabriel asked softly.

An uninterrupted silence ensued.

"He can't control you, Dean. Not unless you let him." Gabriel assured him softly. Dean's eyes flew open in shock. _'How did he….stupid, mindreading angels…'_

"You don't know anything, Gabriel." Dean answered irritably. He bristled at the archangel's perceptiveness that seemed to look right through to his soul; his fears, hopes…dreams laid bare for the celestial entity to see. "Stay out of my head."

"Dean, you're not in hell anymore. Alistair does not hold any power over you. You are _free_. Your dreams are not reality. They're just instruments that he's using to break you_. Don't let him break you, Dean_."

"You don't understand, Gabriel. I'm already _broken_. He _broke_ me in hell. Who's to say that he won't break me again? Who's to say that I can stop him?" Dean's words trailed off as his breathing hovered over hyperventilation. The honesty of his own words was a heavy burden on his shoulders. He closed his eyes again, obstructing his shameful tears.

"I know, kiddo. But you're not in hell now. And you're not _alone_. You've got a moose of a little brother, a surrogate father figure, a righteous angel of the lord and by some stroke of luck, an awesome, kick-ass archangel with you."

"Yeah right. I still don't trust you, you know. You could still run off and leave us in hot water." Dean replied snarkily.

"I guess I could do that. You'll just have to wait and see!" Gabriel grinned.

Dean rolled his eyes and then his mood subdued again. Gabriel waited silently, displaying uncharacteristic patience that was surprising even to himself.

"What if….what if I end up hurting Sam or Bobby or Cass…..what if Alistair gets to them because of me…."

"Not going to happen, Dean-o. I'm not going to let anyone hurt Cassie, and by extension you Winchesters either. I know that you don't believe that I'm on your side and I guess that's partly true. But I _am_ going to stand beside my little bro, no matter what happens. So yeah, I'm on your side."

Dean appeared thoughtful for a minute and then a slight smile stretched across his face that held a hint of a smirk. He abruptly realized that he did have something in common with the annoying archangel after all; the responsibility of being an elder brother.

Gabriel lost his serious expression as well and smirked.

"So, you ready to go back before our little brothers tear Bobby's house down in their worry?"

"Let's go."

* * *

**AN: Please leave a review and let me know what you think!**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: First of all, I apologise to all the readers for the long delay and the short chapter. Also, thank you so much for the wonderful reviews and feedback.**

**What You See in the Shadows: Thanks a lot for your awesome review. I am so flattered! I'm glad you enjoyed my portrayal of the characters. And I hope this chapter meets your expectations.**

**Icelady: thank you for review. I'm glad you enjoyed it.**

**Guest: thank you too, whoever you are. **

**Your feedbacks are a great source of encouragement, so THANK YOU!**

* * *

Chapter 11

Dean blinked his eyes as his body rode out a wave of disorientation. His stomach flipped in a recognisable discomfort that he associated with angel-travel. Seeing Gabriel appear beside himself, he realised that the archangel had zapped them right in front of Bobby's house. A stab of unexpected relief hit him when he saw his beloved impala parked out front and mentally thanked Gabriel for his thoughtfulness, not that he would ever admit it, his previous heart to heart with the archangel be damned .

His attention was captured by the front door slamming open and a figure emerging from within. '_Sam_…' he thought fondly, as he took in his brother's relieved expression. Bobby and Cass appeared behind Sam, their expressions predictably identical.

Dean put on a wide grin as he approached, his body swimming in relief and happiness and drowning out all the negativity that he had been floundering in previously. Feelings of safety and security and _homecoming_ washed over him and he reveled in them. It was as if the sun was shining again after a long spell of rain. And though he knew that the dark clouds still hovered at the periphery, for now the uncloaked sun was shining brightly, driving the darkness away.

"Hey Sammy, sorry for…well, you know…just jumping and driving off…" Dean said with his patented, charming smile when he saw his brother approaching him with long, hurried strides. Acknowledging that he might have reacted a tad recklessly and worried his little brother, he felt a trickle of guilt run through him and as redemption, he decided that he would allow Sam to hug him and have a chick-flick moment just this once.

So immersed in his thoughts was he that it came as an absolute shock when Sam proceeded to knock him down with a solid punch; he didn't even think to defend himself. '_What the hell….."_

For a moment, Dean could only cradle his jaw in amazement and wait for his thought-process to catch up. He felt as if the ground had been yanked from beneath his feet. The pain did not even register in his brain as it seemed to be too busy trying to figure out what had happened. _'Did Sam just punch me…?'_

And then, like a dam bursting under pressure, his brother's angry voice tore through the silence and drowned everything else in its roaring midst. "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING, DEAN! ARE YOU CRAZY! ARE YOU TRYING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED! WHAT COULD POSSIBLY MAKE YOU RUN AWAY LIKE THAT! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED I WAS?"

"Um…Sammy…?" It was all Dean could think to say. _'I might have miscalculated the situation, just a little bit…' _He had yet to move from his position on the cold, hard gravel of Bobby's driveway. He absently registered the highly amused faces of the other spectators. Gabriel and even Bobby were openly laughing at his expense, the shameless bastards. Even Cas was displaying a rare smile of amusement.

Having recovered his ability to think again, he was distracted from his embarrassment over his situation by his brother, who surprisingly captured him in a tight embrace. Guilt and remorse attacked him with renewed velocity as he comprehended just how much he had scared his little brother with his actions. He mentally kicked himself for his carelessness and admitted that he would have been at his wit's end himself if it was Sam who had put himself in grave danger.

"Don't you dare scare me like that again, you hear me?" Sam mumbled against his shoulder. Dean wrapped his own arms around his brother's trembling form and ran his hands over Sam's back in calming motions. "I'm sorry Sam. I won't do it again. I promise."

Guilt wrecked him again when he felt his shirt becoming damp with Sam's tears at the shoulder and he cursed himself for his stupidity again. He tightened his hold over his brother and crushed him to his chest. He muttered gentle promises in Sammy's ear and stroked his hair soothingly, uncaring of his audience in the wake of his little brother's distress.

He finally understood the absurdity of his actions. Under the influence of Alistair's nightmare, he had abandoned Sam, assuring himself that it was for his brother's own safety. But now, he realised that his leaving was not about protecting Sam at all; it was about him running away, it was about his cowardice. His fear of Alistair had overtaken his rationale. Granted that it was fear for his family's safety that had prompted him, but it was _fear_ nonetheless. He had been _afraid_. So he had not been protecting his loved ones at all, he had only been running away in fear.

However, regardless of this revelation, Dean was not stupid enough to think that he was ready to face Alistair either. He was still afraid and there was no point in hiding it. In fact, he would be stupid not to be afraid. But he also knew that he was not alone. And as much as it bothered him to admit it, just on this occasion, Gabriel was right. No matter what Alistair threw at him, he still had his family to watch his back. He quickly decided to skip over the fact that he had subconsciously admitted Gabriel as family; but the archangel had helped them and Cas and proclaimed that he had their back, afterall.

And so, the world-wary hunter, for once, against all instincts, allowed himself to be lulled into the sense of safety that came from being with family, _from being home. _He felt himself relax for the first time since coming back from hell and welcomed the rush of just _letting go_.

Basking in the soft glow of happiness, Dean raised Sam from the ground, exchanged a grin with his brother and then began leading the miss-matched group back to the house. _He was home_.

"Anyone want some beer?" Bobby called out as he entered the house.

"Sure…"

"Yeah…"

"Hells yeah…"

"Yes, please…"

"I'm hungry. Anyone in the mood for pancakes? With lots and lots of chocolate syrup!" Gabriel chirped over the commotion.

"Gabriel…!" Sam groaned in exasperation.

"And pie!" Dean called out excitedly.

"Sure, Dean-o!"

Bobby rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. "Is food and sugar all you two idgits think about?"

"YEP!" Two voices answered in unison.

With loads of laughter, jokes, shrieks and exclamations, the house had never been more warm and homey. As the Winchester brothers followed the procession towards the kitchen, Sam paused at the doorway and turned to face his brother.

"I'm really glad you're back, Dean." Sammy said with a smile which his elder brother duly returned.

"And I'm glad to be back!"

* * *

Fire cackled with frightening ferocity, laying waste everything in its path. Heat rose in enormous waves from the unfathomable chasms of the dark. Vermilion rivers, overflowing with blood, streamed through every nook and cranny. The screams and helpless cries of the tormented pierced through the murky, smoke-filled air. Despair oozed from every corner and drowned everything in hopelessness.

Alistair settled into a jewel studded, high-backed chair and sighed in pleasure. He enjoyed the comfort that his home brought, wedged as it was in the deepest parts of hell. The gruesome decor of his mansion, done in blood-red and charred-black was soothing to his nerves. The withering heat scorched his demonic soul and offered a morbid relief and coziness. The cries of tortured souls howled in his ears and felt to him like the most exquisite musical composition, more tasteful than any symphony ever written by the masters of old.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the sulfur infused air and exhaled in contentment. _Home sweet home… _And yet, something was missing…. _Dean…_

Alistair leaned back and closed is eyes, reminiscing the day he had encountered Dean's soul for the first time. It had been a splendid soul indeed, shining pure and bright and blinding everything with its pristine beauty. He had impatiently awaited the arrival of the righteous man in hell and when the moment finally came upon him, he was not disappointed. Dean Winchester's soul was everything that was righteous and virtuous and _good_. And it was up to him to break the righteous man.

He remembered with amusement the day he had introduced himself to Dean. He recalled how Dean had watched him approach, his clear eyes shining with both wariness and defiance and how determination had radiated from his very being.

_Alistair walked purposefully towards the gallows taking long, assured strides. He was happy today; it was a joyous occasion, indeed. He had been anticipating this day ever since Dean Winchester had sold his soul in exchange for his brother's life. And now it was time for Dean to pay his dues._

_As the demon strode towards his destination, other lowly demons bowed their heads reverently. Alistair smirked in arrogance and slammed a couple of them against the wall just to hear them whimper in fear and pain but decided not to kill them. He was in a good mood, indeed. _

_As he arrived, he was immediately drawn towards the dazzling soul. Ah…there he was, the righteous man…The rumours had not done justice to magnificent sight in front of him. Dean Winchester was glowing, illuminating the place with his brilliance. He was hanging from above, the meathooks digging into his back and shoulders and rendering him completely immobile._

_The newly arrived soul stiffened as he saw him walking up to him. Alistair knew that the boy was studying him, impatiently trying to predict his next move. He smirked._

_"Well, well. We finally meet. I take the immense pleasure of welcoming you to hell, Dean Winchester. I've been waiting for you for so long."_

_"Who the hell are you?" Dean demanded, refusing to show the fear that Alistair could so easily sense in the soul in front of him. _

_"Oh, how impolite of me to forget. I haven't introduced myself yet, have I? My name is Alistair."_

_He saw the hunter fight an involuntary shiver. 'Trying to be brave in the face of hell…interesting.' He could already see the resemblance between the boy in front of him and his late father. 'If he is like John, we're going to have so much fun.' Alistair was determined not to make the same mistakes he had made with John Winchester. He had been careless, naively careless. But he had learned from his mistake. Dean Winchester will __not__ escape like his father._

_Alistair scrutinised the soul in front of him, assessing each and every bit of the hunter. He noticed each tremble of fear and trepidition. He felt his burning desire to be strong. 'Poor boy. He has no idea what is coming for him…' He thought gleefully. He could already imagine the different instruments he would employ, the screams that will escape the hunter's mangled soul, the begging and pleas he would elicite….._

_"I admit that I am very curious about you, Dean. It was a noble act for sure, giving up your life and soul for your little brother. The question is, was it worth it?" He had to admit, he had been extremely curious about Dean's deal. He was amazed at the level of dedication and love that the boy held for his little brother that had motivated him to make the deal. 'The father sold his soul for his first-born son and then the son sold his soul for the little brother. Strange family, these Winchesters.'_

_"Shut up, demon. Ofcourse Sam was worth it; thought I don't expect someone like you to understand." Dean declared. He was unexpectedly intrigued. In his long lifetime, he had seen many foolish humans make the crossroads deals for far less noble reasons; money, power, beauty, fame, conquests….but not many were brave enough to do it for family. He himself considered family to be a fickle and ineffectual institution. It only seemed to be a weakness that can be used against you, an obstruction in the attainment of power. Yet this particular human appeared to cling to his own Achilles heel….how interesting._

_"We'll see if you can conform to your believes, shall we? And I assure you Dean, I will make you regret condemning yourself to hell before long. Don't think you can resist me, boy, for I will completely and irrevocably destroy you. And when you break, I shall compose and construct your shattered soul into the greatest weapon that has ever been witnessed in the arsenal of hell. You will be mine to have, mine to control and mine to dominate. I will make you forget who you were and what you used to be. I will sculpt you to be my ultimate student and soldier. You will be mine, Dean Winchester, and I shall have you."_

Alistair was interrupted from his reminiscing by a demon servant who curtsied hurriedly and delivered to him the latest news.

"Contact has been made with defector as per your orders, my lord. The bait has been set and we are ready to proceed on your orders."

Alistair dismissed the messenger with a flick of his wrist and smiled in anticipation. "Yes, Dean Winchester is mine. And I shall have him soon enough."

* * *

**AN: Sorry for the abrupt change in the two parts of the chapter. Hope it wasn't too disorienting!**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Hi! Long time no see, right? But in my defense...well I don't really have a defence...**

**Silenthowler: Thanks so much! I know, poor Bobby! And Dean and Gabe's bromance is my favorite! Thanks, I enjoyed your review!**

**What you see in the shadows: Actually, I ****_was_**** trying to show the contrast between Dean and Alistair's situations. I'm so happy you caught that! thanks!**

**Babyreaper: Thanks. The planning starts in this chapter. Hope you enjoy!**

**Lanteaddicted: thanks for the review!**

**Onwards with the chapter...And the plot thickens...**

* * *

Chapter 12

The night was eerily silent; not even a whisper of the wind or the hooting of owls or the sounds of nocturnal animals interrupted the disturbing quiet. It was doubtlessly the quiet before the storm.

The lonesome crossroad was faintly illuminated by the crystal moonlight. Tall, dark trees stretched across the horizon and kept vigil over the forsaken wilderness. The watchful moon was the sole witness to all happenings that went on behind the dark curtain of night.

Two figures stood on either side of the juncture, rigid and unmoving. The air seemed to cackle with sizzling tension, the blazing battle-lines were scorched in the ground. The figures scrutinized each other with practiced precision, both waiting for the other to make a move.

One of them, the slight silhouette of a woman, fidgeted her fingers nervously but refused to lower her steady gaze. The other, with a taller and somewhat broader build that could only belong to a man, stood poised and confident like a soldier. Both were tensed and ready to defend at the slightest notice.

The stand-off was interrupted by a hint of a maniacal grin crossing the man's shadowed face. "Well, what do you say, darling? Surely you can see the benefits of accepting our offer."

The woman was hesitant. "I'm risking too much by taking your offer. What's in it for me?"

The man sneered. "Your life. Don't think you have the power to negotiate, love. I could just kill you now and be done with it. We have many others who would be willing to do the job." His eyes flashed black dangerously, the twin, dark voids revealing his true nature. The threat hung in the air, heavy and stifling.

The woman shuddered in fear. The threat was hardly empty, she knew. He would surely follow through with it if she dared to refuse. _'I really didn't have a choice, do I?'_ Her contemplations were confirmed soon enough.

"You have no choice. Should you refuse though, I would be happy to _persuade _you myself." The man smirked maliciously causing the woman to tremble in fright. She was well aware of his methods of _persuasion_. He was one of Alistair's finest soldiers, after all.

"Fine. I'll do it." The woman reluctantly agreed.

"Excellent! I knew you would see reason. But be sure to succeed, because the punishment of failure shall be dealt out by the boss himself. And you don't want that, do you?"

"I can do it, trust me. I already have the Winchesters eating out of my hand." She replied. Her discomfort was evident.

"Good. I look forward to getting the good news."

The man departed silently and the woman was left alone in the darkness. Her eyes flickered black, dark as a moonless night, and she made up her mind. She knew that there was only one road left for her to take. She pulled out her cell-phone and dialed a memorised number. Self-preservation was the most dominant trait among her kind, after all.

* * *

The early morning sun was just breaking out at the horizon and was welcomed by the melodious chirping of birds. A new dawn stood at the vestibule of a new day and cheerily announced the arrival of a brand new morning for everyone but Sam Winchester. _His_ morning had arrived a lot earlier than dawn.

His fingers flew over the keys of his laptop as he worked and his worry only seemed to increase with every passing second. Several of Bobby's priceless books lay scattered in front of him but offered no sense of enlightenment. A sigh escaped his lips and he kneaded the bridge of his nose in frustration. _'This is so much worse than I thought…'_

Sam abruptly stood up and prepared another cup of coffee; it was already his third cup but for once, he was too tired to care about the consequences of imbibing such enormous amounts of the beverage. He was much too occupied with his own churning thoughts, which were currently spanning the length and breadth of heaven, hell and earth, to be evaluating his caffeine-intake.

He went over the call he had received in the middle of the night and tried to integrate everything he knew of the situation. His head felt heavy, saturated as it was with too many facts, riddles, possibilities, information and the ever-present worry of the future.

As he chugged down the last of the coffee, his reverie was disrupted by the sound of his brother's footsteps coming down the stairs. A moment later, his brother appeared through the kitchen door, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Morning, Sammy. You're up early…" Dean mumbled before grabbing the coffee pot off the table and pouring himself a mug.

Sam resisted countering with a _'So are you'_. Dean hardly got any sleep these days anyway.

"Umm…Sam? What exactly are you up to at six in the morning?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at the mess that was the kitchen table.

"Yeah…about that. You should sit down for this." Sam answered nervously.

"We're in the middle of the apocalypse, Sammy. I doubt there's much that can shock me anymore." Dean rebutted with a snort.

"I suppose, but you should sit down just the same." Sam chuckled as Dean made an elaborate show of rolling his eyes and collapsing on a chair with an exasperated sigh.

"Well, what's the verdict?" Dean asked curiously. He scrutinised his little brother carefully, taking in the dark bruises beneath the eyes, the messy, disheveled hair and the slight smudge of blood on the lower lip from where Sam had been worrying it with his teeth. These evidences of Sam's anxiety were more than enough to chase his sleepiness away and replace it with the rigidness of the military routine for which he had been trained.

"Sam…?"Dean asked, impatient to get to the root of the problem.

"I got a call last night...from Ruby." Sam broke off the sentence and glanced at Dean apprehensively. Dean stifled his instinctive shout and made a concentrated effort not to erupt in a furious rage. _'Damn it, Sam. Ruby again….?'_ The eldest Winchester willed his stringent training into action and accordingly reined his anger in. He ordered himself not to react. He would get all the information from Sam first and then proceed to knocking some sense into him.

"Go on." Dean said, much to the surprise of his brother. Sam raised an eyebrow at the encouragement and continued.

"Demons…they're up to something. Something big. They're gathering in Wyoming." Sam paused to let the information sink in. Dean frowned and then his eyes widened as he made the connection.

"Wyoming…..you don't think…the Devil's Gate….."

"Yeah. They're opening it. Again."

"But…they can't Sam. We have the Colt. It's the only thing that would open the gate."

"Well, I guess it's not the only thing, afterall."

"But how?"

"Lucifer." The single word chilled him down to the bone.

Sam spoke up again."Figures the Devil could open the Devil's Gate."

"Yeah… What else did Ruby say?"

"Apparently, the key to opening the doorway to hell is an ancient ritual. Lucifer will perform it on the next full moon which is three days from today. Probably to raise his army from hell."

Dean sighed in frustration and rubbed his eyes. The perfect start to a day…demons, hell and Lucifer…three words that could only spell disaster.

"So, what's the plan?"

* * *

It was already late evening when the human members of Team Free Will gathered at their unanimously agreed upon headquarters; Bobby's kitchen. Despite the stars twinkling merrily in the vast, calming expanse of the night sky, the atmosphere inside the house was in severe contrast with Mother Nature.

They were clearly tensed and agitated. A despairing sense of anticipation hung in the air.

"You two idgets sure about this?"

"It's not like we have a choice, Bobby." Sam replied with a sigh.

"Don't worry, Bobby. We'll gank the bastard nice and easy and be back in no time." Dean assured the worried hunter with his cocky signature smirk. Then again, Dean had already mastered the art of manipulating his expressions; a very useful skill while playing poker. Inside, Dean was quite worried about the outcome of their quest and a lot less confident of its success.

"You don't even know if it will work, you idgets!" Bobby exploded, his worry poorly concealed as anger.

"It's worth a shot." Sam answered passively. The half-empty beer bottle in his hand trembled slightly and he tried to stop his imperceptible shivering. He was scared, he was terrified and he didn't want to die. But some things just _had_ to be done. Sometimes there was no other choice.

Sam glanced up hesitantly and met his brother's eyes. A single look passed between the two brothers and it was more than sufficient to convey an entire conversation. They knew each just as well as they knew their own selves; maybe even better. Like two halves of a whole, they were tuned to interpret each glance, each tone, each twitch of the other as easily as if reading a book.

This moment was a perfect evidence of the bond that the two shared. As Sam gazed into his big brother's eyes, he felt as if a curtain had been lifted from over him, leaving him bare and exposed to Dean's perusal. He instinctively knew that Dean could easily see the depth of the sea of emotions flooding his mind and body. And like a mirror, he could glimpse his brother's soul through his eyes as well. One look, just a single moment of the collision of their gazes, was enough to allow them access to each other's thoughts.

_"I'm scared, Dean."_

_"I know, Sammy, I know. But we'll get through this."_

_"But what if we don't? Lucifer….he's a powerful enemy….what if our plan doesn't work?"_

_"…..well, then atleast we'll be together….."_

_"I just got you back, Dean. I can't lose you again!"_

_"I'm not going anywhere, little brother. Whatever happens, we'll see it through to the end. Together."_

Their silent conversation was interrupted by Bobby. "You boys sure you don't want me to come?"

"Nah." Dean answered. "No reason for all of us to jump into the fire together. Besides, someone needs to hold the fort."

"I still think you two should wait for the pigeons to get back. Did you try calling them again?"

"Yeah. Still not answering." Sam sighed in exhaustion. "Cas did say they might take a while. Anyhow, the full moon is only a couple of days away. We're running out of time."

Bobby could only nod in resignation. With that, the hunters retired to rest. Both the Winchesters lay on their respective beds, restless with the anticipation of the coming days, hoping against all hope that they would get away with their lives. The night passed with nervousness, anxiety and contemplations of the trials and tribulations that stood before them.

* * *

The Winchester boys loaded the impala with a variety of weaponry and other assorted items they would require for their trip. As Dean slammed the trunk of the car, Bobby greeted him with a nod and clapped his shoulder.

"Take care of yourself and your brother, alright?" Bobby said with worry saturating his gruff voice.

"You got it."

After bidding the elder hunter farewell, the boys got into the impala and the journey began. As Dean pulled out of the salvage yard, his thoughts flew as swiftly as the road beneath the wheels of the impala. The upcoming confrontation weighed heavily on his mind. They were going to clash with the Devil himself. He wasn't foolish enough to think that there was any guarantee that they would live to see through this. He could only hope that there was some way to save Sam, unlikely as it was.

Lucifer was the Morningstar, one of the oldest beings in existence, a fallen archangel; and all that stood between him and the end of the world as they knew it were two frail humans. The only weapon they had was a rusty, ancient gun; the Colt. _Yeah, we're doomed._

Dean glanced at his brother from the corner of his eyes. Sam was staring out of the window unseeingly, drumming his fingers on the dashboard, a habit that always betrayed his nervousness. Every time Sam's body shuddered in fear, he felt his own heart clench in helplessness too. He knew that Sam was terrified; and rightly so. He was Lucifer's intended vessel, afterall. And instead of eluding Lucifer, they were running towards the Devil's direction. He might as well gift-wrap Sam and deliver him to Lucifer.

But ofcourse, Sam refused to listen to reason and insisted on coming with him just to watch him shoot the Devil with the Colt. Dean was willing to lay down his own life to stop the Devil, but he'd be damned before he let Sam die as well. But as always, he had given up on convincing Sam to stay with Bobby as soon as Sammy had pulled out the dreaded 'puppy-dog eyes'. _Damn cheater…_

Dean wondered if he was making a fatal mistake. He doubted Lucifer would bow down in front of the mystical powers of the 'puppy-dog eyes' like he had. But then, he knew that he had never been able to say no to his little brother.

But would his weakness lead to Sam's demise as well?

* * *

**AN: So...confused? Yeah, me too. But don't worry, it will all make sense later...I hope...**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: So, a quicker update this time!**

**What you see in the shadows: Aww...your review had me blushing. Thanks!**

**SilentHowler: Thanks! btw that shopping list comment made me !**

**babyreaper: Thank you! As for Ruby...you'll just have to wait and find out.**

**WARNING: This chapter deals exclusively will hell and a very sadistic demon. If that's not your cup of tea, turn back now. **

* * *

Chapter 13

The room was dark, as dark as the night sky that loomed over the horizon. The darkness seemed to swirl around in a haze as if it had come alive. Its menacing tentacles rose from within its deep, dark core and threatened to ensnare its victim in its dark clutches. The atmosphere weighed with a sense of danger and foreboding. The putrid air reeked of pure evil. It was the epitome of a blackhole; from which even light could have no hope of return.

A demon was the sole occupant of the forlorn room. He slumped in a dark, leather-covered couch placed right at the centre of the room. He perfectly emulated a sculpture, unmoving and hard as stone. It appeared as if he was completely unified with the darkness, as if he thrived in its endless nothingness and rejoiced in its despairing hopelessness.

The motionless picture was abruptly dissolved by a bright glow as Alistair lit a cigarette and released a ribbon of dark grey smoke. The smoke snaked through the empty air, branching and expanding before finally disappearing in the void.

A timid knock on the door shattered the picture-like quality of the scene and snapped the disgruntled demon out of him reverie. Nevertheless, he allowed the intruder to gain entrance with a sharp "_Come in_."

A meek demon poked her head through the door and hesitantly stepped into the room. A sliver of silver moonlight spilled into the room through the crack of the opened doorway and threw Alistair's features into sharp relief. The slight illumination revealed his expression to be one of stark contemplation. The female demon shivered in silent fright.

Hastily, her petite body dropped to the ground in a low curtsy. She respectfully kept her gaze towards her master's feet. Horrible things were known to happen to those who were disrespectful…..or to those who caught the fearsome demon when he happened to be in a bad mood…which, unfortunately for her, had become a usual occurrence as of late. She sent a quick prayer to the Morningstar that she would get away with her life. She didn't dare look up.

Alistair eyed the stooped body of the demon at his feet. He hadn't bothered learning her name. As it was, she was one of hundreds of demons in his service. They were all the same; mindless sheep eager to please him_, expendable_. He only ever memorised those who were different, unique, creative, promising….._like Dean…._ Raw talent like the hunter's was hard to come by, making Alistair all the more determined to have him. Speaking of which…..

"Report." Alistair ordered the nameless demon.

She flinched at the harsh command but obeyed without raising her bowed head. "Everything is going according to your plan, My Lord. The Winchesters are on their way and should be here on schedule. All the preparations have been made."

Alistair remained silent for a few minutes. A few, long, agonizing minutes for the huddled demon.

"And has the Colt been secured?" Alistair questioned.

"N…no…M….My…Lord….Ru…Ruby was….unable to….."

"WHAT!" Alistair barked out. The shuddering demon risked a glance at the furious demon and cowered in fear. His cruel face was twisted in fury and outrage. The air seemed to heat up from the terrifying waves of anger that were erupting from Alistair. Ironically, she felt a cold dread slipping into her stomach. She considered running for her life for a single moment but gave up just as quickly, knowing it would be futile. Fear gripped her with escalating intensity.

"YOU DARE TO TELL ME THAT YOU FAILED TO RETRIEVE THE ONE WEAPON THAT CAN BEGET MY DEMISE FROM TWO MEASLY HUMANS…..YOU USELESS, UNGRATEFUL, WORTHLESS …"

The air buzzed with an invisible energy that converged at the incompetent demon. A blistering agony attacked her, incapacitating her and wrenching her true smoky form out of her human host. The agony multiplied ten-fold until her very core was utterly obliterated and scattered into blissful nothingness.

Alistair stared at the dead, broken female body at his feet with satisfaction. A cold smirk graced his lips. Yes, expendable indeed. He had neither the patience nor the tolerance for the slightest act of incompetence. And the demon had failed to fulfill his orders afterall, regardless of who caused the failure.

The failure to procure the infamous Colt was concerning, but not overly so. It was only a minor wedge in his plan, one that could easily be remedied. In any case, he would have the Winchesters, one way or the other. He would just take possession of the deadly weapon after the hunters were captured.

Alistair felt a tingle of anticipation race through him; which, in and by itself, was rare as well as surprising. This infrequent thrill had evaded him for centuries; the thrill of the chase, the thrill of the strategy, the thrill of _desire_. It burned through his veins and set fire to his demonic soul. The flame of _want_ was rekindled within him after so many years of cold apathy. It had been so long, so long since he _wanted_, since he _desired_, since he _coveted_.

A precious, invaluable gem had been dangled in front of him, and he had to have it. He had known it the minute he had seen Dean Winchester for the very first time; seen the untouched, unexplored, latent talent hidden within and recognized the infinite possibilities. And for a while he had possessed it. He had had that unimaginable potential at his fingertips, to shape and sculpt as his heart desired. He had been intoxicated by the boundless power at his command before it had been wrenched away from him by an angel. Decades of hard work washed down the drain…

The demon closed his eyes and leaned his head back, memories of a distant time flashing behind his closed eyelids like a disjointed movie. His greatest conquest laid before him, and he relished in the memory of his greatest victory.

...

_The perpetual fires of hell blazed in every direction, creating a strange medley of blood red and furious orange against the black backdrop. Tributaries of dark red blood trickled from their origins and united to form gushing streams of the glistening ruby liquid. Hideous screams echoed in the distance and formed a dismal concerto._

_Alistair savored the oppressing atmosphere and sighed in contentment. He took a step back and studied his work. He smirked at the bloodied, broken body in front of him. The righteous man was strapped to the rack, his body mangled and bleeding. A painful twitch or an occasional shudder ran through his devastated body, drawing a whimper from behind his clamped lips._

"_I must say Dean, it seems that you quite enjoy our daily interactions, considering that you refuse to give up my delightful company. It's been ten years already since we were first acquainted with each other, if you can believe it. Time does fly so fast when you are having fun."_

_The Winchester glared at him in defiance but did not answer; whether by choice or because of his ability to speak being crippled due to pain, Alistair did not know._

"_Would you stop being stubborn now and accept my offer? All you have to do is say 'yes' and you can come off this rack. The pain, the torment, it can all end. __**If **__you accept my offer."_

"_Never."_

_The glare that tortured soul sent his way was ferocious even though his eyes were unfocused and hazy with pain._

_The demon smirked at the sight; a defeated man still trying to struggle through a lost battle. Surprisingly, he was impressed, which was a feeling he was rather unfamiliar with for all intents and purposes. It took a LOT to impress him._

_While Alistair had known that Dean Winchester would prove to be a tough challenge and was prepared to bring out his best game, it appeared that he had underestimated the hunter's strength, or more accurately, the hunter's tenacity. Dean had certainly exceeded his expectations and had maintained his rebellious attitude even after being in hell for a decade._

"_I don't see why you are being so stubborn, boy." Alistair pretended to sigh in sympathy. "What are you hoping to achieve? Or do you think little Sammy will come to your rescue? There is no going back from selling your soul. And there is no escape from hell either. You're stuck here with me for the rest of eternity." _

_He heard a chocked sob from his victim and smiled passively. "Well, since you obstinately continue to reject my kind offer…" He picked up the sharp knife again which was already sheathed with the hunter's blood. _

"_Let's continue, shall we?"_

_..._

_The torture continued again as the days stretched into years. And at the end of each day Alistair presented his offer and each day he received the same answer. Hours upon hours melted into each other indistinguishably but his labors did not yield results. His victim remained obnoxiously resilient._

_By now the demon's patience was wearing thin. The challenge was proving to be more difficult than he had initially anticipated. The righteous man had been in his custody for well over two decades and yet the first seal remained unbroken. He knew that others were beginning to question his effectiveness. He would have to be more creative if he hoped to break Dean Winchester in time. And he was._

_The answer was so simple, so obvious, that Alistair was shocked that he had not discovered it sooner. Dean Winchester had willingly condemned himself to an eternity in hell for the sake of his younger brother. He had sacrificed his life, his soul, his sanity for Sam. So, it made sense that the only one to succeed in breaking him would also be Sam._

_With renewed motivation, Alistair abandoned the physical torture and delved deeper into psychological warfare. And it worked. It worked brilliantly._

"_I don't know why you continue to struggle, my boy. What are you fighting for? Or rather, who are you fighting for? Have you not realised yet, that Sam is not coming?"_

"_Shut up."_

"_Why would he? He finally has what he always wanted. A normal life, a life devoid of hunting, a life without his family. He can go back to college, meet a girl, get married, have kids… He can live his life freely without being held back by his elder brother. Why then, would he try to rescue you?"_

"_I said, shut up! You know nothing about Sam!"_

_But despite those contradictory words, the seeds of doubt were already sprouting in the hunters mind. 'This is what Sam has always wanted. Maybe he's not trying to get me out…maybe he has moved on…maybe he is happy without me….'_

"_Face it, Dean. You were never really wanted or needed, were you? When you were a kid, your dad left you time and time again when he went on hunts. He drilled you to look after little Sammy, to protect him even at the cost of your own life. It's clear who the favored son was. You were nothing, just a mindless slave to do his bidding. He never really cared for you, did he?"_

_Strings of memories floated in the Winchester's mind, serving as a harsh testimony of Alistair's words. Though he was loathe to admit it, the demon's assertions rang true, just as Alistair knew they would. Dean's mind, rendered fragile after decades of pain and torture, further cracked and splintered and Alistair just knew that he was incredibly close to breaking. _

"_Sammy didn't need you either, did he? He left you too. He went to live his apple-pie life in Stanford without you. He didn't want you then and he doesn't want you now. He has been happily living his life for the last couple of decades and letting you rot here in hell!"_

"_You're lying! Sammy wouldn't give up on me. He won't!"_

"_Oh really? Then why hasn't he gotten you out by now? Why are you still stuck in hell? Believe me, son, he has given up. He's not trying to save you; not anymore."_

"_You're lying….y..you…..you're…..lying…." The hunter's voice broke into sobs as burning tears cascaded down his cheeks. Sensing the hunter's resolve quivering, he ruthlessly drove the next nail in the coffin._

"_Sam doesn't want you in his life, Dean. You forced and bound him by the ties of family when he only wanted to break free. He's not coming, Dean. No one is. You're all alone."_

_..._

_That momentous day marked the first time, since his descent in hell, that Dean Winchester cried. The poor, tortured soul, encumbered under the weight of his fears and sorrows, at last broke down and cried. And Alistair, with much satisfaction, stood beside the weeping soul and whispered words of poison in his bleeding heart._

_It was not long after that dark day that the first seal of the apocalypse broke. Dean Winchester, already fractured by suffering through monumental pain, both physical and emotional, alas shattered like a pane of delicate glass. On the thirtieth anniversary of his dive into eternal damnation, his soul surrendered under the onslaught of the depraved forces of hell and became one with the darkness._

_It was the most joyous day of Alistair's life._

Alistair opened his cold, hard eyes as he came back from his long walk down the memory lane. The mere memory of that celebrated day was enough to recreate the euphoria of his victory. His pulse quickened and he shivered in anticipation. The moment was close…so close. He could feel the sensation of its arrival coursing just under his skin.

Soon…soon he would have Dean Winchester in his grasp again. His greatest masterpiece, his brightest pupil, his strongest weapon and his only weakness. Soon he would be the most powerful demon in the pits of hell. He would be supreme, absolute, invincible…immortal.

* * *

**AN: So...creepy? scary? sinister? Sorry for the absence of our favorite brothers. They'll appear in the next !**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: Here's the next chapter of Tryst with Perdition for your reading pleasure. Enjoy!**

**silenthowler: umm...wow! masterpiece? really? Thanks so much! and as for pitying the demon...what can I say. I'm evil!**

**what you see in the shadows: thank you so much! Your reviews really boost my self esteem!**

**babyreaper: sorry for making your fears come true. But don't worry and keep holding on and I'm sure dean will get through! btw Christopher Heyerdahl's my fav Alistair too!**

**neah joe: thanks for dropping by your review!**

**An action-packed chapter filled with our fav brothers as promised!**

* * *

Chapter 14

The late afternoon sun lent its last, fading rays to the world as the fast approaching night crept over the opposite horizon. The evening sky was decorated with waves of colours in different hues of blue, indigo, red, yellow, orange and gold. A few early stars blinked in the expanse, peeking from behind the soft edges of the cotton-like clouds.

The Winchester brothers sped down the open road in their beloved impala, the sole living beings to be seen in the vast, barren land that lay on either side of their path. The only colours to be seen in the distance were shades of dull brown with bare specks of faded green the only sign of sparse vegetation.

There was a strange, lonely beauty in the dry, abandoned wasteland that stretched before them. The setting sun offered its last bouts of light and warmth making the bare soil appear to be a dull gold. A few bleak, leafless, dying trees leaned at random intervals, casting long, protective shadows that were fast fading. The fast approaching darkness seemed to drain the life out of the picturesque desert rendering it cold and haunted.

_'It's like the last glimpse of beauty before going blind, or well, in our case, being dead.'_ Sam thought morosely. He wondered, yet again, how it was that they always ended up in death-wish, martyrdom-inducing situations.

What was it that made them so special? Why were the last of the Winchesters singled out from billions of human beings to spearhead the apocalypse? Why were _they_ chosen to be the vessels of the two most majestic as well as terrifying archangels?

_'Or rather, why was I condemned to be The Devil's vessel? Where did I go wrong?'_ For as far as he could remember, Sam had been a good person. As a child, he had believed in the existence of angels and a divine entity and had often prayed for the safety and well-being of his family. He had been an obedient son, at least in the initial years and had taken care to be well-mannered and polite.

His adolescent years had been much more turbulent but even all the evil he had witnessed and hunted had not shaken his faith in God. He still prayed for the security of his family and hoped for miracles. Though his relationship with his father had been less than amicable, he still loved him and tried to look out for him. He hunted the supernatural world and saved lives. He accepted the possibility of his own death for the sake of saving nameless strangers in nameless towns. He tried to be kind and compassionate and loved his elder brother more than anything else.

Was this a punishment for leaving his family and running away to Stanford? But he hadn't meant to abandon his family. He had just wanted to pursue his own dreams; to do something for himself, for a change, after spending his entire life servicing others. He had his own dreams; dreams of a normal life, a fulfilling job as a lawyer, a white picketed house, a beloved wife, maybe a couple of kids and a dog…he had just wanted a chance to live his own life as he saw fit. What was so wrong about that?

Regardless, a little selfishness as a character flaw hardly likened him to be the Devil's vessel. Then why? Was this an unstoppable, predetermined plan of destiny? Could he have done anything to prevent it?

He sighed in frustration at the jumble of questions for which he had no means of unearthing the answers. Dean glanced at him from the driver's seat with a questioning eyebrow raised in response to Sam's irritated sigh. Sam just shook his head mildly in negation and went back to staring listlessly out of the impala's window.

By now night had truly fallen and plenty of stars had abandoned their hiding places to blink invitingly at their viewers. The sky was clear and cloudless and the waxing moon was lending a silver glow to the darkness. Tomorrow it would be a full, round disk marking the full moon night; the night that would possibly end with their deaths.

Sam shook his head to rid himself of his pessimistic thoughts. It was a beautiful night; too beautiful to be wasted on sorrow and fear, especially if it might be their last. He looked at the twinkling stars again and with an idea forming in his mind, he addressed his brother.

"Hey, Dean…?"

"Hmm…?"

"Remember the time when we stopped in the middle of the night once to watch a meteor shower?"

"Umm…yeah. Don't think there's one today though…"

"No reason we can't indulge in star gazing." Sam replied with a grin.

"Star gazing…really, Sam? Do you want to hold hands and talk about our eternal brotherhood and love for each other too?" Dean whined.

"Oh come on, Dean. Just like old times!" And of course Dean could never resist Sam's genuine, dimpled smile.

"Damn…alright, you big girl. Let's get out and stare at some boring, unmoving, unchanging stars if it makes you so happy." Dean exclaimed before parking the car at the edge of the dirt road.

The brothers exited the car together and unanimously decided to perch on the bonnet of the vehicle. The night was silent, no living being in sight for miles around. Yet again, it was just the two; the two of them against the world.

They sat in silence, not needing words to communicate. Sam leaned back comfortably and sighed in contentment. After a moment, Dean joined him too, purposely nudging him with his elbow; a silent declaration that Sam was not alone, that Dean would stand beside him, always.

A half an hour later, the elder brother dared to break the temporary peace and quiet, knowing that their impossible situation could not be ignored.

"It'll be okay, Sam. You'll see. We'll get through this." Dean assured his younger brother with as much confidence as he could muster.

"…How…?" A minute passed before the reply was uttered.

"Well, either we will succeed in killing the Devil…."

Sam let out an involuntary snort at the sheer improbability of the statement. Dean didn't bother admonishing him, fully aware of his own thoughts that were tinged with disbelief.

"….or we'll die trying to save the world…." Dean finished with an unconcerned shrug that conveyed that he had already accepted the plausible outcome of their endeavor and was ready to lay down his life in the hopes of cleaning the mess that they had unintentionally created.

Dean heard Sam's breathing hitch just a little with emotion and felt a wave of sadness engulf him.

"Are you scared?" Dean asked, feeling the weight of the responsibilities of a big brother and begged hopelessly for a way to spare the little boy he had sworn to protect so long ago.

"A little bit. I…I don't want us to die, obviously, but….but we have to try. We have to atleast _attempt_ to fix our mistakes." Sam answered with conviction. "Besides, we'll be together, won't we?"

"Yeah…" Dean replied easily. "Together….till death does us apart. Damn, Bobby's right. We _are_ like a married couple."

Sam burst out laughing and Dean followed soon after. The solitary night echoed with the brothers' joviality and merriment. And for a while, everything was alright.

* * *

The next afternoon, the brothers finally arrived at their destination. They checked themselves in an obscure motel just outside the town limits and then proceeded to map out and survey the graveyard where the ritual was to take place. Suspecting that the town was already infested with demons, they only hoped that their protection charms would conceal them from the demons as well.

They returned to their room in a few hours having planned their course of action for the night. Deciding to nap for a few hours, they surrendered themselves to some much needed rest. Dean was shaken awake by his brother a few hours later.

"Dean, it's time."

Dean gladly returned to the land of the awake, grateful for being rescued from some dark, terrible nightmare he couldn't remember anymore. He glanced at his brother, a quick 'thanks' escaping his lips when he noticed Sam's countenance.

Sam's face was ashen in the pale moonlight, his hair messy and pulled in different directions. He obviously hadn't been able to get much sleep. Dean immediately felt guilty for not having woken up to assist his brother.

"Sam…"

"I'm okay, Dean. It was just a bad dream, that's all. It's fine."

"You sure?

"Yeah…come on. It's almost an hour till midnight. Time to go." With that, Sam got up from Dean's bed and began getting ready for what he hoped was their last confrontation with the Devil.

Dean dragged himself off the bed too, and loaded himself with various kinds of artillery. He gripped The Colt tightly in his hand; their last hope. He spared a glance towards his brother and the brothers exchanged a significant look. Dean nodded and tucked the weapon at the back of his jeans, grabbed the keys of the impala and then walked out of the room, knowing that his brother was at his side. Sam shut the door behind them with an ominous bang.

* * *

The brothers sneaked into the cemetery and immediately took cover behind the wild shrubbery. They crept onwards, their senses alert and sensitive to the slightest hint of the enemy. Gradually, they reached a dilapidated corner of the necropolis, littered with crumbling gravestones and dried leaves, and they knew that they had found their target.

About a dozen demons stood in the clearing, apparently waiting for something. It seemed that perhaps Lucifer had yet to arrive. Their greatest advantage lay in the fact that the demons were unable to sense their presence, thanks to some of Gabriel's suspicious but effective powers. They wouldn't hide them from Lucifer, but then, they wouldn't need to, considering that they planned to shoot him with a gun.

They should have known. When had things ever been easy for them? Their painfully simple plan went horribly wrong. And it wasn't even The Devil who had sabotaged the plan. The Devil hadn't even shown up at all!

It was the demons, just the damn demons. Somehow, the Demons knew that they were coming. Somehow, they were expecting them. It was all a trap, a farce, a sham. The demons were not awaiting the ritual; they were awaiting the capture of the Winchesters.

The brothers didn't know what had gone wrong. Their vigil had erupted in such a commotion that they hadn't even had time to be surprised. The graveyard had exploded in an outbreak of fire and demons and blasts. The shell-shocked Winchesters didn't stand a chance.

Amidst the upheaval, Dean tried to reach out to Sam but his efforts were all in vain. Restraining arms, invisible shackles and impenetrable walls of fire ensnared him and held him captive. He struggled to break free but was oppressed and knocked down. His eyes desperately searched for his brother.

"SAM!...SAM!..."

"DEAN…"

Sam's pained shriek echoed in the mayhem, drowning all the other chaos until it was the only thing Dean could focus on. Sam's voice tore through him, the fear in his cry plundered him.

Slowly, a fallen silhouette came into his focus, a few paces in front of him. It was achingly familiar, despite the features being shrouded in shadows.

"SAM!" Dean hollered and fought to throw off his captors again. His brother lay motionless on the ground, knocked out cold by their cruel captors.

Then, a figure appeared in front of him, blocking the view of his unconscious brother. The man…demon…sneered down at him and then kicked him in his side causing him to fold into himself in pain. Dean raised his head in defiance and glared at his abuser, trying not to disclose his pain.

A vague, forgotten memory called out to him and he studied his captor carefully. He had never seen the face before, he was sure, and yet something about his cold, condescending, haughty expression struck a nerve. His intuition was soon confirmed.

"Dean Winchester! We meet again. I wish I could say that it's good to see you again, but well, I'd be lying."

Realisation suddenly clicked in his mind.

"Kraven." Dean spat out in distaste.

'Ah, you remember me then. Well, unfortunately for you, we'll be seeing a lot more of each other. So let's go now, shall we? Master is waiting." Kraven smirked maliciously.

Dean barely had time to experience the fear of being Alistair's captive again before a sharp hit to the back of his head incapacitated him and he surrendered to the cold, harsh darkness.

* * *

**AN: SO...comments? thoughts? views? I'd love to hear them!**

**Also, sorry for introducing the new oc. If it bothers you, don't worry. He's just playing a minor, insignificant role.**


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: I know. I've been gone for a while. But it was not my fault! This chapter just refused to come out right!**

**Anyway, a HUGE thankyou to my lovely reviewers. 'Babyreaper','silenthowler','what you see in the shadows','animegal24','freetobescary'. Your kind words and enthusiasm inspire me to keep writing. You guys are AWESOME!**

**Onwards with Chapter 15...**

* * *

Chapter 15

There comes a time in one's life when luck, fate, providence and even life turns away from you. When the dark clouds of hopelessness threaten to obstruct the light in your life and conquer your soul. When your soul cries for sunlight as it withers in the cold, lonely winter. When you desperately search for a reason to fight, a reason to live…when you yearn for a silver lining to comfort your bleak heart…when everything goes wrong and everything falls apart…when you beg for a miracle to deliver you from the evil in your world…

What do you do then? When no miracle is forthcoming…when all hope is lost…when the silver lining fades and disappears…when you lose your will to live…when the sunshine abandons you…when the dark clouds extinguish all light and overcome all hope? What do you do when all is lost?... What do you do?

* * *

Dean let out a soft groan as he rocked between the chasm of sleep and wakefulness. He chased after the wisp of a hazy reverie, the tendrils of the dream recoiling further and further into his subconsciousness and evading his reach. He ran faster than ever before, knowing somehow that he needed to capture the elusive fantasy before it vanished from his memory. He had to hold on…he needed to remember…

His surroundings seemed to wilt away as he ran faster and faster. The happy fantasy was gone; from his vision and his memory. He tried in vain to recall the blissful dream but the canvas of his mind remained blank.

He began disintegrating as awareness latched on to his mind and refused to let go. He tried to fight against the pull of reality, to go back to his content whimsy, but the colours drained from the picture as cognisance greeted him. The fantasy utopia was gone and harsh, merciless reality took its place.

The first thing he noticed when he woke up was the damp, unbearable cold. He shivered involuntarily, his fingers running over the cold, hard stone that made up the ground. It was cold, and he was glad; cold was good, it was the opposite of hell. He wasn't in hell. Hell was blazing and burning; it wasn't cold.

He attempted to sit up, noticing as he did so, the smooth, metal shackles that ensnared his wrists and ankles and affixed his appendages to the thick, foreboding bars of the small window of his prison. His gut shuffled uneasily at the thought of his apparent hostage situation.

His eyes slid across the cramped dungeon and came to rest on a collapsed figure huddled in a corner. The gigantic figure was soothingly familiar, as were the long, floppy hair and the dirty, bloody face.

"Sammy?!"

Dean moved toward his little brother, ignoring the loud clanking of his chains. He knelt beside Sam, instinctively assessing him for lethal injuries and permanent damage.

"Sammy? Come on, wake up." Dean breathed a sigh of relief when Sam's eyelids fluttered and gradually revealed his hazel eyes.

"Dean?" A soft groan accompanied the exclamation. "What happened?"

Dean sighed again, this time in frustration. The worse had had come to pass. His fears and nightmares had come true. They were caught…again; possibly for the last and final time.

Alistair…Alistair had him…he was caught…and Sammy…hell…he was going to be dragged back to hell…again…torture…pain…so much pain…blood …bones …fire …knives…demons…hell…pain…...

"Dean?"

Hell…fire…pain…blood…torture…

"Dean…hey! You okay? Dean!" Sam's worried voice dragged him back from the endless, merciless loop that had ensnared his mind to the present and he shook himself to get rid of the morbid thoughts. He couldn't fall apart…not now…Sam was depending on him.

"Yeah…yeah…I...I'm fine. As fine as we can be here anyway." Dean said, glancing around their prison.

"What?" Sam questioned in confusion and followed his brother's gaze.

Hard, impenetrable, concrete walls on all sides greeted his vision with stark, terrifying clarity. A short, steel door on one side was soldered in the walls and gave no promise of escape. The wrought iron bars set in a minuscule window allowed only shredded fragments of light into the dark cell. Trapped...no escape…confined…they were trapped…

"Okay..." Sam muttered, trying to keep his fear at bay. "Now what?"

Dean was saved from replying by the sound of heavy footsteps stomping their way towards them. A cold wave of horror crashed over his body causing him to shudder and tremble. He barely felt Sam's hand clamp over his own, too far gone to comfort his brother.

The footsteps were closer now, bringing with them horrors unknown. The air quivered in fright and seemed to run away in fear as the boys suddenly found it difficult to breathe. An unidentified pressure pressed against them, squashing their gut, choking their windpipes and rendering them immobile.

The brothers looked at each other, communicating words they hoped would not be the last. Their eyes conveyed strength; that the other would find the determination to fight. Hope; that they would find the will to live. Comfort; that they would not die alone.

A dark silhouette passed the bars of the window and then the footsteps came to a halt. A tense silence followed for a few, long seconds followed by the loud, ominous crash of shifting metal as the door was unlocked and unlatched.

The brothers waited with bated breaths as their captors appeared in the narrow doorway. Dean studied the imposing figure standing in front of half a dozen sturdily-built demons, the obvious leader of the horde. The figure radiated power, contempt, derision and a cold maliciousness that was so familiar that Dean could almost imagine himself to be back in hell. He addressed the figure, hoping to conceal his fear under false bravado.

"Kraven."

"Dean Winchester. I've been waiting for this moment for so long. Master is most pleased that I've successfully detained the traitor." The demon said with a maniacal smirk.

"Ofcoarse he is." Dean muttered. He was well aware of Kraven's pleasure and the reason behind it.

Sam raised a questioning eyebrow but Dean shook his head minutely, silently promising to explain at a later time. _If he got a chance…_

"In fact, Master was so thoroughly delighted that he promised that I could have a chance to play with you after he is done." The Demon grinned happily. "Ofcoarse, that is, assuming there's anything left of you after the Master is done."

Sam, easily angered at a threat to his brother, made to rise but was restrained by his brother. Kraven smirked at the display.

"Let's go then, shall we? We don't want to keep Master waiting."

With those words, the demons moved forward, grabbing their arms pulling at their chains. Sam and Dean attempted to fight back, if only on principle, knowing that they were severely outmatched. Though their struggle did little good and they were soon repressed by blows and hits.

The brothers, confined by strong arms and heavy shackles, were led to Alistair to decide their fate.

* * *

The throne room, as Dean impulsively decided to call it, was huge, dark and cold, which was apparently the theme of the whole forsaken demon-quarters. This particular room was obviously decorated to suit Alistair's grand as well as sinister preferences. The walls stretched high above their heads and were shrouded in dark, melancholy colours. A few ostentatious chandeliers hung from the high ceiling. A dais rose on one end, upon which sat an opulent throne, studded with glittering, precious jewels. The room was strangely familiar; horribly familiar. Dean gulped as the realization sank within him. The throne room was a recreation; a recreation of its counterpart in hell that was Alistair's mansion. Alistair had literally created hell on earth.

The iridescent throne was currently occupied by none other than Alistair himself, perched regally like a King gracing his subjects with his royal presence.

'_Alistair always did fancy himself as a majestic king.'_ Dean mused. The demon was certainly feared and respected enough to be considered royalty. As it was, Alistair was one of Lucifer's most loyal followers and held a prominent position in the Devil's imperial court. _'Oh well, I was never one for politics…'_

Alistair rose as the prisoners were pushed to their knees before the dais. Dean felt his stomach flip as Alistair smirked above their helpless, bowed forms.

"I told you that I would have you, did I not, Dean? You could have avoided bringing dear Sam into our affairs if you had just surrendered yourself to me from the beginning."

Dean was just about to issue a witty and sarcastic comment, as was his compulsion under any stressful situation, but Sam beat him to it.

"Go back to hell, you bastard, and leave us alone." Sam spat in indignation.

'_So much for witty and sarcastic…' _Dean sighed. But he had more important things to worry about than his little brother's evident deficiency in wit and sarcasm. But really, did he not teach the kid anything? He had, it seemed, been insufficient in educating his little brother about the art of acerbic retorting.

Dean shook his head to get back on track from his deviations. The humor in his thoughts dampened as the severity of the situation hit him again. He did indeed have more important things to worry about; like damage control.

While Sam's attempts at verbal retaliation were admirable, they were also troublesome. Dean was well aware that they were stuck in a hopeless situation and fighting back would only worsen their circumstances. He was not foolish enough to hope for escape and it seemed that even divine intervention in the form of their angels had abandoned them.

Dean could only imagine the horrors and nightmares that his future held in store for him. He was resigned, however fearfully, to his terrible fate. His only concern now was Sam; and hence, damage control.

Protect Sam. It was the only thought revolving around his skull. Protect Sam. But this self-imposed task was not being benefited by Sam insulting and back-talking their captors. It was probably too late to save him, now that he was in Alistair's clutches again. But he couldn't give up on saving Sam. He had to fight, he had to stay strong, he had save Sam. _He had to_.

Just as he thought, Sam's opinion was not appreciated by anyone and one of Sam's captor hit him hard across his face. Dean's heart skipped a beat as he saw Sam colliding with the floor, a bloody streak scarring his face. His vulnerability, his sheer helplessness dawned on him. What could he do? How could he help; tied and captive as he was? He couldn't do anything. He couldn't save Sam. He was helpless…hopeless…powerless…useless…

His heart swelled with pride and pain as he watched Sam pull himself up and glare at Alistair defiantly. Never one to give up, his little brother wasn't going down without a fight.

_'But is that a good thing?'_ Dean was forced to contemplate as he watched his beaten brother.. '_Or will it only make things even more difficult and painful for his brother?' _

Sam's bloody form called out to him, asking questions that he hadn't dare answer before. Was fighting back worth it? Was it worth Sam's blood, and possibly his life? What was the use of fighting? It wouldn't save him from hell. It certainly wouldn't save Sam. Wouldn't their defiance only cause them more pain?

He himself could endure the pain for the satisfaction of a witty retort. He had done so in his initial years in hell; accepting additional pain that could have been avoided but for his defiance and his verbal insults. He had taken great pleasure in disobeying and rebelling, not minding the torture it cost him.

But now…but now he had Sam to consider. It was one thing for him to tolerate pain, but a wholly another thing for Sam to have to do so. For Sam to endure pain…especially when Dean could have prevented it…it was wrong…unacceptable…intolerable. He wouldn't let it happen. _He couldn't!_

As much pride he took in his little brother's strength and resilience, it couldn't outweigh the guilt and suffering of his heart. Protect Sam. It was his sole purpose in life. He had to protect Sam.

Right now, protecting Sam meant surrender. And he would gladly do anything to protect his little brother. He would happily swallow his pride and be submissive, passive and obedient. He would protect Sam…even if Sam hated his decision to give up. He would protect Sam.

Decision made, Dean pulled out of his thoughts and looked at his former Master. He had believed his resurrection to be a miraculous chance to redeem himself. His redemption was gone. All that was left was a desperate man's desire to save the last remnant of his beloved family.

Alistair scrutinized the calm, resigned expression in Dean's eyes and smiled at the immense possibilities that adorned his future. He looked forward to breaking and shattering the man in front of him. He looked forward to regaining his prized protégé. He looked forward to the undying power that was within his reach. Yes, his future was brighter than any blazing hell-fire could ever hope to be.

"Well, it seems that we are at crossroads. I have every intention, I assure you, of extracting vengeance for all the trouble you Winchester boys have caused me. But my quandary is, where to start? My naïve apprentice who betrayed me, or the beloved brother that caused him to do so?" Alistair punctuated his speech with a contemplative sigh.

Dean bristled at the implications. "This is between you and me, Alistair." Dean announced with more confidence than he felt. "I betrayed you. I'm the traitor. Leave Sam out of this."

"Oh, but why would I do that, my dear boy, when even the thought of me laying my hands on your brother makes you suffer so wonderfully?" Alistair questioned with undisguised amusement.

Dean shivered in fright, knowing fully well that he was helpless to prevent Alistair's designs. He tore through his brain, searching for some remedy, some answer that would resolve his predicament and save his brother. But he inevitably came up empty.

"Then again," Alistair continued. "I have missed you, my prodigal apprentice. And I do admit that I have been looking forward to our reunion."

Dean sagged with relief and nodded to show his acceptance. What he did not anticipate was his troublesome, little brother trying to ruin his plans again.

"No. No that's enough." Sam exploded in a burst of desperation. "You've done enough damage to my brother, Alistair. Please. Leave him alone. Take me. Please. Don't hurt him again."

"SAM! SHUT UP!" Dean cried in alarm. But as usual, Sam ignored him.

"Please. Don't do this…"

"SAM! NO!"

"As touching as this scene is, Sam Winchester, I don't think I will." Alistair smiled coldly and then gestured the guards to take the struggling, younger Winchester away.

"NO…DEAN!" Sam cried, tears streaming down his face.

"I'm sorry Sam. But it's the only way." Dean availed one last glance at his flailing brother as Sam was dragged out of the room and then the doors shut with a terrifying bang.

With fear and terror running through his veins, Dean finally turned to face the cheerfully smirking demon.

* * *

**AN: So what do you think? There's a lot in store for the brothers!**

**Also, if anyone is interested, I've been slipping in some clues about a major plot twist in the past few chapters. If anyone has guessed it yet, I'd love to hear it! (If you've got some suspicions to share, I request you to PM me because I don't want to spoil the surprise for others) **


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: Hey! A quick(er) update this time!**

**Many, many thanks to silenthowler, babyreaper, what you see in the shadows, animegal24, key and candylover665 for your wonderful words of encouragement. I loved reading your reviews!**

**And onwards...**

* * *

Chapter 16

Sam shivered and curled into himself, trying to keep out the cold. The prison seemed smaller and more imposing without his big brother to offer him warm reassurances. The bleak walls and foreboding bars surrounding him closed in, entrapping him…suffocating him.

Terrible screams echoed in the distance, carrying tales of atrocities to his wilting ears. The screams of a most beloved brother…

Sam closed his eyes and tried to block everything out; the screams, the pain, the cold…oh the screams…He tried to convince himself that it was all a horrible dream, a figment of his imagination playing tricks on his fragile mind. He tried to assure himself that this was not happening, that his worse nightmares had not come true, that his brother was not being tortured by a sadistic demon…

The youngest Winchester banged the back of his head against the wall, trying to drown the inhuman sounds of torment tearing through the air. He loathed his helplessness, the hopeless circumstances of his life. He wished he could do something…anything…to save his brother…to spare him pain. He would gladly take his brother's place on the rack if he could.

But even the loud screams overwhelming his senses could not drown the voice in his head; the ever-present voice that sounded annoyingly like his own but endeavored to decimate him from within. The voice that was currently accusing him of ruining his big brother.

'_It's your fault. It's all your fault. You did this. Dean is suffering for you…because of you. You're useless, worthless…everything Dean has done for you…and you couldn't even save him. Dean, who raised you, nurtured you, protected you, sacrificed his own life for you…and what did you do? You got him killed.'_

"No…no…no…" Sam sobbed as his cruel subconsciousness plundered him. Tears burned down his cheeks, prompted by his heart-broken sobs filling the room. Waves of guilt crashed over him mercilessly, engulfing him, crippling him until he was sure that he could not physically move.

His mind turned against him, blaming him, accusing him, reproaching him. It compelled him to regret; to regret having ever been born, to regret being a part of Dean's life, to regret disappointing his big brother.

But the voice inside his head had no comfort to offer him. It continued its relentless assault, drawing tears from his stinging eyes rather than blood from insignificant materialistic wounds.

_ 'It's your fault that Dean made the cross-roads deal. It's your fault that he died. It's your fault that he went to hell. It's your fault that he's hurting again.'_

"Oh God, what have I done?" Sam continued to cry tears of guilt, failure and humiliation. "Dean, I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"

_'You should never have been born. You're useless! You're the Devil's vessel! You're worthless. The world would be better off without you. Dean would be better off without you. If you hadn't been born, Dean would still have a mom, Dad would still have his wife and he would never have adopted hunting, Jessica would still be alive and Dean would have lived a normal, happy life: a life without your presence to ruin it. You don't deserve to live. And you definitely don't deserve to have a brother like Dean.'_

"No…please…I'm sorry…Dean…I'm so, so sorry…please…Dean, forgive me…please forgive me…"

_'You don't deserve forgiveness, you worthless fool. You don't deserve absolution. And Dean will never forgive you after today. He hates you. He hates you for everything he is suffering right now. He'll never forgive you. He hates you.'_

"No…no…please no…Dean…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

_'He hates you. He'll never forgive you. He hates you. He'll never forgive you. He hates you. He'll never forgive you…'_

"NO….NO…NO…STOP…PLEASE STOP…HE'S MY BROTHER…HE LOVES ME…HE WOULD NEVER HATE ME…DEAN WILL FORGIVE ME…HE DOES NOT HATE ME….."

_' He hates you. He'll never forgive you. He hates you. He'll never forgive you…'_

Sam clamped his hands over his ears, desperate to stop the guilt and the accusations. Tears moistened his bruised cheeks, his loud pleas doing little to overcome Dean's tortured ones. He clawed at his ears, he banged his head against the walls…anything to get away from the voice of his conscience that narrated his inner-most fears. But the persevering voice, fueled by the enormous ocean of his guilt, continued to poison his bleeding heart.

_'He hates you. He'll never forgive you. He hates you. He'll never forgive you…'_

"NO…STOP…SHUT UP…PLEASE…JUST SHUT UP…NO…"

His throat hoarse from his cried begging finally wore him down and the mental strain eventually dragged him into exhausted unconsciousness. The young, helpless hunter collapsed on the cold, prison floor as the tortured, haunted symphony of screams reverberated through the night.

* * *

As Sam regained awareness several hours later, he immediately spotted a vast difference from the time before his unintended collapse. The dismal concerto had ceased, leaving behind a piercing emptiness that he found almost just as disturbing. It was quiet; too quiet.

For one impossible second, he almost thought that he had gone deaf. Before the irrational fear could catch hold of him, however, he vaguely realised that he could clearly hear his own labored breathing.

A terrifying thought occurred to him, a thought so horrible, so excruciating and yet horrifyingly probable. What if…no…it was impossible…it was unacceptable…it couldn't be….but….

He felt sick. His stomach roiled in his body, he tasted bile on his tongue. His breath escaped his lungs and suddenly, even breathing seemed to be a daunting task.

No…Dean couldn't be…_dead_…he couldn't be…it couldn't…he was alive…Dean was alive…he had to be…Dean wouldn't leave him behind…not again…

But before he could hyperventilate himself into oblivion, he heard the unnaturally loud clanking of the metal door to the prison being opened. His trained body automatically tensed, ready to deflect an oncoming attack. He was suddenly painfully aware that he was weaponless; not even the strength of his brother to watch his back.

But his anticipation was needless as, instead of an attack by demons, a body was thrown through the crack of the door before the gate was slammed shut forcefully.

A pained groan emerged from the fallen body; the most familiar, the most beautiful sound to Sam because in that moment, everything was alright. Because the voice was _Dean's_ and that meant Dean was _alive_ and it was all that he could have asked for.

He hurried to his brother's side, kneeling beside him and helping him lean his back against the wall but not withdrawing the support of his arm.

"Dean?...Dean…hey, you okay?…talk to me, man…" Sam knew that he was rambling and at some point he realised that he was asking stupid questions but he couldn't care less because Dean was _alive_…he was _alive_…

Dean let out another groan. "Yeah…sure…I'm just peachy…"

Sam examined his injured brother, mindful of the several bleeding wounds littered over his body. Even the limited lighting of their prison could not obscure the shredded and bloody clothes and the jagged wounds visible over his abused body. The fractured bone in his arm and several broken fingers did not go unnoticed under his keen gaze. Dark, angry bruises were materializing over his face and chest while sharp slices against his back suggested the use of a sharp whip.

The injuries were skillfully placed, Sam acknowledged with a morbid sense of relief, to cause pain but not death. He wasn't sure if that was preferable or not because while his brother had endured pain for a longer duration, atleast he was alive.

Dean had settled into the crook of his elbow and was now drifting into painless unconsciousness. Sam wrapped his arms protectively over his brother, wishing he could attend to his many injuries and offer some scrap of comfort. All he was able to offer were guilt-soaked apologies.

"I'm so sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I'm so sorry…"

* * *

Time passed incredibly slowly, crawling at a snail's pace, with nothing eventful disturbing the temporary and fragile peace. While his brother withdrew into the embrace of obliviousness, Sam faithfully watched over the elder Winchester, determined to somehow protect him from harm; however inconceivable it may seem.

He had failed his brother before, letting those damn demons get the better of him, and abandoning his brother to Alistair's whims. Not again. He would fight to his last breath before he let Alistair lay a finger on Dean again. All things considered though, it was quite likely that things would come down to his dying breath anyway…

Dean shifted slightly in his restless sleep, a soft moan escaping his lips as he aggravated his injuries. Sam tensed, but eventually relaxed when Dean did not wake up from his slumber.

Sam was overcome by an urge to do _something_…_anything_ to get out of their predicament. Their situation was worse than sitting ducks, as they waited for their inevitable death sentence. He couldn't just sit here and wait to be killed. He couldn't remain idle in the face of death; especially his brother's. It went against his very nature. Winchesters were anything but resigned under life-threatening situations.

_But what could he do? _Fighting back was not an option; they were severely outnumbered, weaponless and Dean was in no shape to indulge in throwing punches. Escape, while favourable, was hardly pragmatic; they had no idea where they were, they were entirely clueless about the lay-out of their holding facility, not to mention the demon guards and additional surveillance.

They were certainly ineffectual on their own. They needed help. Not for the first time, Sam prayed to their angelic companions for help. Surely they had noticed their absence. At least Bobby must have been worried when they had failed to contact him. Even though Cass and Gabe were off on some divine business of searching for God or something, they must have sensed their distress. Atleast Cass must be aware of their capture.

Then why wasn't there any help? What was taking them so long? Was any help coming at all? Surely they had not been abandoned to their fate.

No…he had to believe that help was coming. He had to hold on, he had to keep fighting, he had to hope for the best. And if Dean was in no condition or disposition to hope, then Sam would keep faith for both of them. He would stay strong for his brother. He refused to lay down and die. He would figure it out…somehow…He got Dean into this mess. This was on his head. If, God forbid, Dean died, his blood would be on his hands.

He had to clean up his mess. He didn't have the slightest inkling as to how…but the Winchesters were always surrounded by hopeless circumstances. But they always figured it out. His Winchester resilience was his greatest weapon now. He would wait…wait for the right opportunity…just the right moment…and he would fight and claw his way out.

He refused to give up. Not when he had so much to fight for, not when Dean's life was on the line. He wouldn't give up till the very last moment and he would be damned if he let Dean give up either. They will fight…till the last possible second, they will fight. They _had_ to.

If they were going to die, they sure as hell would go down fighting. It was the only way they knew to die. They would give it their all.

With the newly found determination steeling his veins, Sam's resolve reinforced itself and bolstered his confidence.

Despite his unexpected optimism, however, a sinister chill attacked his body when he heard loud, obnoxious footsteps approaching their prison. His body tensed with equal parts of fear and anticipation.

Apparently, his brother sensed it too because his eyelids fluttered and a frown graced his face. Dean raised a questioning eyebrow towards Sam and allowed his little brother to help him sit up against the wall.

Sam placed his own self in front of Dean, a silent declaration of offering protection. But Dean's objections did not get time to voice themselves before the door was thrown open and Dean's nemesis appeared in the doorway.

He felt Dean shudder behind him and heard his breathing quicken sporadically. He himself clenched his fingers into a fist and narrowed his eyes. The demon would only get Dean over his dead body.

Alistair only smirked at them, his eyes dancing with amusement. The demon was alone in the doorway. _'Maybe we can fight him off. We do have him outnumbered.' _Sam immediately dismissed the silly idea. Alistair's lithe, slender form was surely deceptive and harbored great strength. Besides, Dean could barely run, let alone fight.

The demon appeared to have gleaned his thoughts and he squashed his hopes. Alistair flung them hard against the wall with just a nonchalant gesture of the hand rendering them immobile.

"Do not think that escape is an option for you, boy. It's best you give up hope now."

Dean just groaned in pain at being pitched against the wall while Sam struggled futilely against the invisible restraint.

"I must say, Sam Winchester, that your loyalty and devotion towards your brother are remarkable. But do you value him above your own life?" The demon asked, although already expecting the answer.

"Yes, I do. That's something a demon like you will never understand."

"You are quite right; I don't. So I'll make you a deal. You say _yes_ to Lucifer…

"NO!" Dean immediately bellowed but his shout went unheard.

"…and, in return, I will keep Dean safe from Michael."

"Safe in hell? Really? That's your deal?" Sam snarled in fury. "You can go to hell Alistair. There's no way I'm making a deal with you…"

"Think about it, Sam. What's worse; demons or angels? Demons may cause him physical harm, but angels?...Michael?...once he takes residence in Dean's body, he will _obliterate_ his soul, completely _destroy_ his very _essence_ so that Dean will be no more…And me? I promise to never even string him up on my rack or torture him again…as long as he obeys me and does the torturing himself, of course. It's a better deal than being annihilated by an angel."

"…wh..what?" Sam asked in confusion, glancing first at the demon, and then at his brother. A quiet, deadly silence fell over the room; the quiet before the storm.

"Oh, Dean did not tell you?" Alistair chuckled.

Dean looked away in shame, tears of disgrace streaking down his face. The hunter closed his eyes, unable to witness his world shatter irreparably, forever.

"Well, this is wonderful. I'll leave you two kids alone then. You have much to discuss. And Sam, think about the deal I have offered you. I shall expect a favourable answer soon."

The demon left, banging the door behind him and leaving the brothers alone in the darkness.

"Dean?"

With just a few, simple words, a tempestuous storm was unleashed that changed their relationship forever.

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**AN: I'd love to hear your comments. Do review!**


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